Stitches
by TMBlue
Summary: -"I'm going. Alone," Hermione said, leaving no room for Ron to argue. One night, so long ago now it seemed, really had changed everything.
1. Fools and Their Follies

**Stitches**

**Summary:** "I'm going. Alone," Hermione said, leaving no room for Ron to argue. One night, so long ago now it seemed, really had changed everything.

**_A/N:_ **_I just wanted to say a couple things before you start reading. _

_First of all, I pretty much had to write this and post it because I actually already had a full chapter done, and even though I kind of said I wouldn't do this, I wanted to get some feedback on the story to see if anyone likes the direction it's going in and if you guys are having as much fun with my new ideas as I am :) I will not be spending a lot of time in the coming weeks on this story because I have other priorities with other stories on here at the moment, so I just want everyone to know that I can't really say when I'll update this story. I do, however, have a plan for the full thing, so it's not going to be something that I'll one day come back to but have serious writer's block on and leave everyone hanging for all eternity! _

_I also wanted to explain really quickly that this chapter jumps between two days. I have marked each day with the date at the beginning of every switch to try and make it less confusing. This will not be happening with all the future chapters, but I needed it to be this way for this one. I hope you all enjoy this. I simply could not resist posting it when I realized that I actually had the full chapter already written down on notebook paper. After all, what's the point in hoarding new writing? ;)_

**Chapter 1: Fools and Their Follies**

_[Companion Track: Two Door Cinema Club - Costume Party (_http: // www . youtube . com / watch?v=sz3AL5w1Rfs_) ] - remove spaces in link  
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* * *

**April 8, 1998**

_"I don't want to die."_

_

* * *

_  
**May 2, 1998**

A cool breeze stirred the grass around her feet, tickling her ankles in the space between the hems of her trousers at the tops of her socks. There was something sickly cold about the way it moved, soaking deep beneath her skin.

* * *

**April 8, 1998**

_"We haven't really lived."_

_

* * *

_

**May 2, 1998**

She knew they were close. She could feel them though she couldn't see or hear them. Things had crashed around them, falling to crumbs and ash, but what remained would be solid, steady and perfect... soon. It was a blinding light for them all now, a path they could choose to walk down that hadn't even been an option before now.

* * *

**April 8, 1998**

_"We're going to be fine," he said, his voice laced with fear at her directness. He never liked a conversation without a punchline. But maybe she hadn't heard him. She was lost in an idea._

_"What if this is it? I've never even..."_

_"What?" He couldn't help himself, impatience building as she bit her lip._

_"What's the point..." she muttered with a trace of defeat, though hope remained..._

_"Please..." She looked at him as he longed for her to tell him what was on her mind._

_"Ron," she cried, and he stifled a flinch at the desperation in her voice, a new thing he was not used to._

_"I don't want to die without ever... before I even..." Begging him to understand, her eyes narrowed to keep her tears at bay, but he could not solve the riddle. "We're supposed to have love before..."_

_He widened his eyes on purpose, heart pounding. He needed her to sense what he had chosen to conclude from her words, hope filling him as he waited._

_"I can't... can't ask you this..." said Hermione, her voice cracking as she tried not to let go._

_"What are you asking me?" he whispered._

_"You're my... best friend..."_

_"Whatever you want..." he began, stepping closer, terrified but summoning all the courage he had, "you know I'll... I'll do anything you..."_

_"Let me... believe that..."_

_"What?"_

_Steady tears ran down her face as she approached him. She was going to tell him, but first..._

_"Promise me we won't change. Nothing will change..."_

_"I can try..." He was beginning to understand more clearly, a hint of regret in his tone for already allowing it to go this far, for her to so easily take anything she wanted from him. Not that he didn't want to give it, whatever it was, but now that he sensed the importance of what she needed, what she could not yet say, he felt his heart already breaking... but why?_

_"K-kiss me..." she whispered, barely audible and white with fear._

_

* * *

_  
**May 2, 1998**

She stared out at the vast landscape before her. Red morning light seemed to coat the summer grass in blood, appropriate for the circumstances of the night before. They had won, but so many people had died, so much bloodshed for the sake of what was to come, a new beginning.

She wondered if she'd ever seen anything more beautiful...

* * *

**April 8, 1998**

_He was reluctant to even speak at first, staring at her as if he had never seen her before. But when he blinked, the cloud lifted and he was himself again._

_"I don't think you know what you're saying..." he said slowly, and she paused to take offense at his implications._

_"Of course I know what I'm saying..."_

_"You're just... afraid..." he continued by way of explanation. His own line of excuses for her request seemed to fail even himself as he did not step back, but rather moved closer to her as he halfheartedly attempted to dismiss her. But he knew the conclusion he was headed for, as if it had ever been a question. Yes..._

_"Of course I'm afraid," she sniffed, and she looked terrified, all the world of suffering in her round eyes, begging for something she feared she'd die without. No use arguing, he stepped closer once more..._

_"You don't want things to change," he stated, shocking himself with the fact that it was not even a question. He had committed to being what she needed right now, no matter how many pieces his own heart was torn into. "Cl-close your eyes."_

_Her eyes widened first. He needed no more convincing. When she finally allowed her eyes to close, her chest rose sharply with a nervous inhale. The small guest bedroom seemed to shrink around them as he stepped into the beam of moonlight Hermione was standing in._

_When his lips touched hers, she jumped from shock, but her eyes remained closed, her body twitching as his arms awkwardly embraced her. Their feet remained glued to the spot, trying to find a way to make things make sense. It was achingly new. She was startled by the intensity of her immediate reaction to his touch, like a bolt of lightning through her veins._

_His lips, the softest touch she could remember, like he was afraid of hurting her. His hands shook, unaccustomed to solitary closeness, to silent rooms filled only with the sounds they were making. Moments turned into minutes, and he found his legs bumping into the edge of his mattress, his eyelids breaking open for a tiny second to look back into her flushed face, her eyes tightly squeezed shut as if deep in concentration, perfecting the work she was doing, this new project she had sought without proper planning..._

_Her hands moved inside his shirt, climbing up his back, but he could no more resist her now than he could stop breathing and go on living. Falling gently backwards, he pulled her with him, ready to go wherever she led him. But she wanted him to lead her there too, wanted to fall under his spell, the one that she was already sinking beneath, whether he knew it or not. Perhaps she didn't want him to know, if she was honest with herself. But she let him hold her, touch her, his lips moving to her neck, her jaw, her collarbone. The effort of resisting wasn't worth a knut. She had only one plan... Make no plans._

_Clothes piled up together on the floor creating a beautiful mess, something she'd wish she had looked at more carefully later when she took the time to remember. He glanced over the side of the bed at her bra on top of his t-shirt, bright orange and silky black so carelessly tossed together, pushed into the same vicinity, a place that neither was familiar with. They could not have belonged together more, could not have blended more perfectly._

_The feeling of cool skin over his warm chest nearly undid every restraint he had built up just now, wanting to be sure, but knowing that he could not ask her, words worth nothing now that they were here. It was never how he had imagined it, never in his fantasies that she'd come to him in tears, ask him for the one thing he had always planned on saving for her... if she wanted it._

_She looked into his eyes, and he reached for his wand on his bedside table, watching every breath, every swallow, and every dart of her eyes, hoping with all that he had that he knew her well enough to understand, to take everything she had inside and spell it out into neatly written down words that he could simply read and accept, following the instructions she laid out for him._

_She watched as he fumbled with his wand, clearly not knowing what he needed to do... his knowledge only stretched as far as the theoretical when it came to what they were about to do. But she knew everything, and he counted on her to be the one to say it now, to tell him what he needed to do._

_"Ron..." she said as she covered his hand with her own, pointing the wand at her stomach, then his. Dazzled as usual by her ability to always know what to do, he nodded at her spellwork, his assumption that she had done it correctly all that he could really hold onto. He was losing everything he had control over. He wasn't even trying to remain coherent._

_Underneath him, she moved, her body sliding against his with agonizing perfection, his heart aching but body tingling as he tried to join his conflicts into one solid feeling, something he could understand, because being so conflicted wasn't the way he had seen it, imagined it when he'd dreamt of it..._

_It hurt, and then it didn't. He shouted, and then grew silent, her eyes locked with his, their bodies locked the same way, together and in sync, nothing out of place or awkward for that blissful moment when it seemed that he had what he wanted, what he'd always dreamed of, what he'd thought was too good to ever come true._

_But before he could breathe again, before he could remember where he was and why he had to stay silent, why he shouldn't really call out her name, it was over and she was undoing what they had built, the bridge they had made to get from one side of the turbulent river to the other. He slipped... and as he watched her stand, her back towards him, a small but sad smile on her face as she glanced his way nervously, he fell into the water, gasping for air as she pulled her blouse on over her head, ducking to avoid contact with his eyes as she thanked him, her voice hardly a whisper. He could not respond. He was underwater. He nodded._

_Her heart in her throat, she left him alone in the guest room, morning dawning even as she made her way to the loo across the hall. They would leave very soon, mere weeks now, the next part of their impossible journey suddenly lit by a very small flame. And when they were through, they could add master thieves to their list of accomplishments. Gringotts would be slightly less full after what they had in store. And this... this was something she could plan, something simple, something that made every bit of sense..._

_She could put it behind her now, what they had just done, the thing that she had to force herself not to be ashamed of. It was over. Wasn't it? He was her best friend. That would never change. He had promised. All she wanted in the world was for him to still be there, still smile at her and encourage her, still give her a reason to go on living. Maybe he didn't love her, maybe he never would, but she had felt it, just for a moment, just now in a strange room in a strange house with the only person in the world she ever wanted..._

_They had to be the same. They simply had to. And she had to be sure it would work._

_As she closed the bathroom door, she felt a nagging in the back of her mind, a little voice that whispered that she was a fool. How could it not mean anything? How could he possibly go on the way things had been before? He would look at her differently, and even if he didn't, she would think that he did. Shaking her head, she stomped her foot in frustration. She had made one promise, one simple rule when she'd allowed her tears to show, asking him... no, begging him... for the one thing she thought she was lacking, the one thing she wanted before her own death, before what might be coming. She imagined briefly how things would be if she had never been with him, never felt so loved and protected and comforted... but was it a lie that she was feeling? Had it all been inside her own head? She had convinced herself that she didn't mind, that if she could just feel it, she'd be okay, whether or not it was sincere, whether or not he loved her at all. But would she really? Could she?_

_She nodded. She had to. This was it. They needed her. She needed them. And she had a job to do, a plan._

_A plan. A focus. A direction._

_Blind to everything else, clearing it from her mind, or so she thought, she nodded once more at her own reflection, and stepped out onto the landing... ready._

_

* * *

_

**May 2, 1998**

Voldemort was dead, had been for nearly an hour, but it would not sink in... not until...

She heard Ron's voice behind her, saying something to Harry, and now that they were alive, faced with what they had done for all time, his voice became like a knife, razor sharp but distant, colder than ice.

"It's over," she whispered to the world, to no one perhaps, though her words would never mean what they would have to anyone else. If she was alive, then why did she feel so dead?

She could have been a ghost, floating just above the surface of the earth, her body suspended weightlessly in a state of limbo between this life and what came next. But she would always know that next was too far away to ever reach, a goal she would never accomplish or see to the end. And as she now realized, like a punch in the face, being stuck here now, knowing that what she'd asked for, a promise to never change, was as impossible as dying and returning to life... well, it was so much worse than knowing the truth, than facing the reality of never truly living, of dying with his smile and his face etched into her mind, but a question on her lips, one she'd never ask... It suited her, it seemed to taunt and tease her, reminding her that it was now impossible to go back and have what she wished could be. If she could have that, the chance to know... But it was over, death now... stuck in between knowing and denying, words and silence.

She was dead. They just didn't know it yet.


	2. Not Even a Choice

**Chapter 2: Not Even a Choice**

_[Companion Track: Bombay Bicycle Club - Dust on the Ground (http : / www . youtube . com / watch?v=XPgetSbJ8II) ]__ - remove spaces in link_

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* * *

_

"Hey," Ron said gently, stepping very cautiously into the boys' dormitory where Hermione stood with her back towards him, facing the window.

She made a sound he couldn't make out, but she didn't ask him to leave, so he approached her. Awkwardness built with every step he took in her direction. Wasn't he supposed to forget they had ever been together at all?

He shook his head. He had to stop remembering it, replaying it in his dreams. She had needed him. He'd been there for her. And that was it. That was all it would ever be. Right?

She turned to face him and smiled softly up at him. He returned it, happy to see her smiling for once in what seemed like years... since _that _night.

"Are you ready to go?" Ron asked, tucking his hands into his pockets and rocking on his heels.

"Go?" she asked, looking a bit confused.

"Yeah, everybody's down in the Great Hall," Ron said simply, shrugging.

"I'm... I'm not going to the Burrow," she said slowly, as if scared of his reaction, of this conversation happening at all... like she had been avoiding it and hoping she would never even have to have it.

"Oh?" Ron asked, surprised. "You know you're welcome there. We all want-"

"I have to leave, Ron," she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest in a protective way.

"You have to catch me up, Hermione, because I have no bloody clue what you're on-" Ron started, but she cut him off loudly.

"Australia. I'm going to bring my parents home."

It stung him to realize that he'd been so insensitive, not even remembering them.

"Oh, shit, Hermione! I completely forgot. I'm an arse. Sorry," he managed to fumble out, taking another cautious step in her direction.

She half-glared up at him, and he was mesmerized and terrified by the intensity of her stare.

"You forgot. It's so easy for you to forget, isn't it? Your family's all right here," but as she spoke the words, he could feel her regretting them.

He wanted to remind her that his brother, Fred, had died hours previous and would never be coming back, unlike her parents. But then he stopped himself, clueless as to where such rage could even be coming from. He wasn't angry with her. He wasn't... was he?

"I know, you're right," he said automatically, knowing he was only avoiding the argument to appease her, especially when he knew that he'd be going with her. He wanted to be a happy part of her life, one of few, and if she would let him...

"I'm leaving tonight," she continued, passing Ron, though not very close, and heading for the door.

"Wait!" he shouted quickly, catching up to her before she exited the dormitory. "Let's not go down there. Not yet."

"Ron, you said everyone's waiting..."

"I know what I said..." he sighed. "I just... I really am sorry. I'm a prat. Look, if you'll just come back with me to the Burrow, just for tonight, then we can-"

But she shook her head. She had already made up her mind and there was no convincing her otherwise.

"I'm going. Alone," Hermione said, leaving no room for Ron to argue. One night, so long ago now it seemed, really had changed everything.

He had imagined himself next to her, helping her, from the beginning. From the moment she'd first told him what she had done, that she'd sent her parents to Australia with no memory of her, he'd begun to plan how they'd clean up the mess they'd made in the end. It was always the two of them. Sometimes Harry was there too, in his future, but not always. And now, to be told she wasn't letting him go...

"But why?" he asked gently, his ears beginning to burn as he tried to control himself. He didn't want to yell at her. She didn't need that from him now...

"It's just what I have to do, Ron," she said, her head held high and resolute.

"I'm your friend," he stated dumbly and she almost rolled her eyes. Or had he been imagining things?

"It didn't work, you know," she said guiltily, her hands trembling as she tightened her arms in front of her chest. "I should have _never_..."

It was odd how little explaining Ron needed to understand her. He knew exactly what she was referring to, exactly what didn't work. He'd been acting like this for a while now, unsure of himself or of her. It had made things so confused and muddled. No joking or teasing, no smiles that weren't full of a question. He had failed. He hadn't been what she needed, hadn't been able to give her what he'd promised.

_Nothing will change.  
_  
Oh, but it had.

"I-I'm sorry... I'm trying, really, I am," Ron stuttered, looking helpless and tired.

"I know you are," she said sadly. "And that's just the problem, isn't it."

"What?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. He didn't know what she meant this time, and somehow he knew that he wasn't going to get a proper explanation.

"Just let me go," she said, taking a step back away from him.

"I wasn't... I'm not trying to _stop _you," Ron explained, hopeful that she wouldn't think of him the way he feared she did, like someone with control over her.

He didn't want to tell her what to do. He didn't want to make her feel like she owed him something when she didn't. He wanted her to do what she wanted... and most of all, he wanted that to include him. Though now, knowing she didn't feel the same, knowing she needed him as a _friend_ and nothing more, he knew that he might have to let her remove him bit by bit from the things he'd imagined with her long ago. His future now had gaping holes in it where he'd pulled himself out her life in his mind. Perhaps he was going too far, she just needed to be alone... some space and some time to think everything through.

When he finally took in her expression once more, he could have sworn he saw a trace of hurt... something like a slap in the face. Had he said something stupid, bungled it up as usual? She moved a half step closer to him, and for a moment, he was hopeful. But then, she shook her head so minutely... and she turned away.

"I'll see you when I get back," she said as she walked stiffly towards the stairs.

"Can't I walk you down to the Great Hall?" Ron asked vaguely, weakly.

"No, I'll be okay. I need some time, Ron," she said, her back still towards him as she descended the stairs...

* * *

He never cared the way she'd hoped. He was letting her walk away. It was so like her to put it all on him, like she had no responsibility in all of this. But hadn't she done the hardest part? She'd been the one to ask for everything, to let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, once they'd been together, he would tell her how he felt.

She should have never let it go this far.

It hurt more, almost, to know how hard he had tried to keep things the same between them. He said it himself. Was it fair for her to assume, as she did, that he cared nothing for her the way she hoped? She had given him time to talk, time to confront her... and he had left her out in the cold.

Tears stung her eyes as she exited through the portrait hole. She didn't know how long she'd be gone, or when she'd see him again. It could be _months_...

Breathing was suddenly a lot more difficult. Was she really walking out now, letting him go like this, giving up on all she had hoped for because she couldn't find the courage to ask him herself? But was it not clear enough now how little he cared? Yes, she knew he had a lot to deal with, that he was not being selfish to think of his own family first. It was right. And she knew he hadn't meant to forget about her parents. He was, after all, her friend... as he'd so shatteringly reminded her.

Her chest ached, his absence carving a hole inside her. Was it going to be this way for long? She would almost rather have the hope, the stupidity of thinking that he - charming and wonderful, brave and handsome, funny and... perfect - really cared about _her_... really... loved her.

It hurt to think the word, to accept that she still felt it so strongly for him...

...when he didn't feel it one ounce in return for her.

Did he.

Did he?

The constant battle between accepting the obvious, or what she had decided was obvious, and hoping for the stars was tearing her to shreds. She was leaving. She had said she was. And she would not look back. She would focus on something she could do, something she had control over in her life... the one thing, maybe, that she could still say that about. And when she came home, she'd start again.

No.

No, she wouldn't even think of coming home. She had to live by the second, let her life take her where it wanted, where it had to. If she planned out her future, everything would, as it always had, crash around her once again. She had seen him in her life for all of eternity. And now, she was having trouble imagining spending another weekend by his side, all of her achingly pathetic feelings rushing to the surface, as she knew they would, at the mere sight of him.

"Hermione!" he called, but it couldn't be him. She had removed him from her head...

He was running behind her.

"When will I see you again?" he panted, obviously having run here from the tower. And her brain clicked on, working through every possibility as it always did. What did this mean, that he had come all this way to see her again before she left?

She stomped her foot, literally, so angry with herself for continuing to be completely unable to function the way she'd promised herself she would.

_You. do. not. love. him._

_Because?_

_Because... he. does. not. love. you._

"I... don't really know," Hermione said truthfully, averting her eyes from him. What was he thinking? How was he looking at her?

She could not answer those questions. Not today. She didn't have the strength.

"Well," he sighed, and she could see him running a hand through his hair in frustration. Good. Let him suffer the unknown with her. "You'll write, at least?"

"I-" she started, but from the Great Hall came an eruption of laughter, Harry's voice ringing out. The doors opened and a few students exited, heading for the main entrance. Harry smiled at Hermione and she looked stonily back.

"What's up?" Harry asked, looking from one to the other.

Ron shrugged helplessly, almost angrily... giving up.

"Hermione?" Harry tried.

"I'm going to Australia, Harry," she said simply, waiting for his shock to kick in. But it didn't.

"Yeah, figured you would do that soon," Harry said, and Hermione smiled at him. He hadn't forgotten!

And Ron didn't miss this pleasant realization.

"I offered to _go_ with you," he grumbled, though he was hardly heard by either.

"Leaving now?" Harry asked, the first hint of surprise in his voice at a last.

Hermione nodded.

"The sooner the better," she shrugged.

"I don't think you should go alone," Harry began, stepping closer.

"Oh, Harry, I'm fine. I want to do it this way. I think I need to."

Harry nodded, though he continued to study her closely, looking for a sign of something more, something she was not telling him.

Well, he could not know this secret. Not _this _one.

"Bye, Harry," she said with a watery smile as she hugged him.

He patted her on the back and she shared another long smile with him. But when she prepared for the worst, for another goodbye, the one she thought she'd avoided already when she'd left him in the dormitory, she discovered that he had done it for her. He'd left her there, disappeared into the Great Hall with his family, his back towards them.

She stepped away, closer to the front entrance, and Harry raised his eyebrows at her.

"Not saying goodbye to Ron?" he asked, his tone light though it was clear he was suspicious.

"Oh, I already did," Hermione said. "He's just a little disappointed he's not coming with me," she trailed off, realizing that her words made him out to be more than he was, someone who wanted to be with her for those ridiculous reasons that she could no longer even consider.

"Ah," Harry said. "I see. I'll try to cheer him up."

"You do that," Hermione said, and with one last glance, she walked through the front doors and towards the awaiting carriages. She had a lot to do. And behind her, she dropped all of her feelings, each one a small weight lifted from her heart.

Love, bit by bit, discarded on the front steps of Hogwarts castle.  
_  
Good. Perhaps it will never find me again._


	3. At the End of a Sentence

**Chapter 3: At the End of a Sentence  
**

_[Companion Track: Fanfarlo - Talking Backwards (_http : / www . youtube . com /watch?v=7a4QpfSiI4w_) ] - remove spaces in link  
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**April 29, 1999**

One more glass and he'd leave. He had work tomorrow, after all. He sighed and slid his chair back, standing, stretching his arms over his head, revealing a patch of pale, freckled skin to Harry's raised eyebrows.

"Another?" Harry asked, skeptical.

"Just one," Ron yawned, and he headed off towards the bar.

A woman stood from her stool, nodding her head, her back towards Ron. Her hair bounced lightly against her shoulders, brown and curly... He blinked, and he had forgotten what she reminded him of...

"Hi," she said shortly as she turned around to find him looking away from her.

"Hm," Ron acknowledged, and she walked away as he ordered two more drinks. He wasn't in the mood to get drunk alone... Strange, as he had found it so easy for a while, sitting here in the quiet back corner of the pub until late at night, watching the other customers go one by one, back to their homes, back somewhere they belonged.

"Knew you'd buy me one as well," Harry complained with a roll of his eyes when Ron returned.

"Drink up, Potter," Ron said, handing Harry a glass as he sat once again at his usual place.

Had it really become such a pathetic habit of theirs, such a cliché, to visit the pub and ignore that one big problem, the one they had silently decided not to mention? Work to forget, try to get your head on straight, pub at night to pretend you have a life worth living...

_If Harry could hear me now..._

"Ron..." Harry began, and it was instantly obvious where this was going.

"Go on," Ron said, too tired to try and stop it.

"Have you, uh, heard from Hermione recent-"

"No," Ron cut him off, another swig of his drink to keep himself from going too far, from saying something he shouldn't. He was working on it, really he was... trying to forgive her.

"Oh," Harry said shortly, studying Ron. "She sent me an owl about a week ago."

"Just now fancy bringing it up to me?" Ron snapped back before he could stop himself.

"You know, she seemed a bit... _unhappy _with you when she left," Harry started, "or maybe that was the other way around. You haven't mentioned her since-"

"Drop it," Ron ordered, drinking again.

"What's the big deal?" Harry asked, really frustrated now. "Every time I talk about her-"

"Nothing, nothing," Ron said, sighing. He had done it again, gotten himself worked up over this so called 'nothing'... or what he was trying to convince himself was nothing.

"Ron..." Harry began, but Ron shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Harry. Let's try to have a good time, yeah?"

"She _had _to go," Harry blurted out, looking a bit desperate. "Her parents..."

"Yeah, yeah. I know," Ron muttered before drinking again.

He smiled at Harry before turning back into his own thoughts, letting Harry go wherever he wanted, as long as it didn't involve... _her_. He knew Harry would not push anymore now. Ron's words had ended the conversation, not quite happily, but at least politely. For once.

_Hermione._

Who was she now really? She wasn't his friend, was she? Friends don't do what she had done. Friends don't abandon each other for a _sodding year_ and never write.

Three hundred and sixty one days. And not one bleeding letter.

"You're coming to the anniversary, on Sunday?"

"Yeah, course," Ron mumbled, adjusting his back against his chair.

"Should be good," Harry shrugged.

"Yeah," Ron nodded, thinking.

Everyone would be there, so many people from the Ministry and from Hogwarts. It was a way for everyone to pretend like they were healed, like they had gone on with their lives, living in the new state of calm that was now painted delicately over the world... since Voldemort's demise a year ago.

"Don't you think it's a little sad?" Ron asked, biting his lip.

"What?" Harry asked, resting his elbows against the table.

"They're doing the memorial on Sunday morning, then we all go out to the pub on Sunday night to have a laugh."

"It's not sad. It's just..."

"What?" Ron really didn't know another word for it.

"It's just a day," Harry said, trying to convince Ron. "We aren't going to forget everyone we lost, but we just... go on. What other option is there?"

"That's not what I meant, exactly," Ron said, drinking again.

He honestly wasn't sure what he meant. He just felt like this day, so fast approaching, was something to dread or perhaps sleep through, not to think about and dwell on so obviously.

He blinked slowly, and when Harry swam into focus before him again, he realized something horrible. Unspeakable.

His brother had died that day. He had lost someone very close to him. A huge part of his life had been altered beyond repair. But the worst part in his heart right now, the part he was dreading, wasn't the anniversary of Fred's death...

...it was the day _she _had left him. And never looked back.

Ron finished his drink in one and dizzily stared across the table at Harry, watching him sip casually on his own drink. And for the first time in a long while, he wanted to hear her name again, just one more time. He had moved past his anger at what she had done to him, how she had left him. He had cycled through this war in his own head so many times before. He couldn't be angry because she'd told him what she wanted from the start. The only person he had to blame for how it had turned out was himself. He had tried so hard to make it right, to do exactly what she asked. And he had been the one who had failed her. She had left because he couldn't do what she'd asked. He should have known from the beginning, should have refused her when she asked him to kiss her. It would have been easier that way, wouldn't it?

But now he really knew the truth, whether she had said it to him or not. She didn't love him. She never had. And he had been a fool to believe that she ever would.

"Hermione," Ron mouthed, testing out the way it felt, familiar and somehow distant at the same time. Harry turned towards Ron, furrowed brows as he watched Ron moving his lips very slightly, staring at a stain on the tabletop.

"You okay, mate?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Ron nodded, looking up, snapping out of his trance. "Fine. I think I'll head home actually."

"Yeah, me too," Harry yawned, and they stood together.

"See you tomorrow," Ron added before Disapparting back to his flat.

* * *

His cold bed sat uninviting as usual, blankets piled high and sloppily. He never made it up properly. What was the point?

He toed off his shoes and crawled up the bed, lying face down in a pile of pillows.

It was much too quiet in his flat, all by himself, but he really didn't want the bother of company. Harry had pondered the idea of them sharing a flat for a while, but they had stayed at the Burrow instead and saved for their own places, needing some place of their own in a way, a place to be alone. Sometimes it seemed silly, solitary nights to wallow in his own self pity when he could be playing wizard's chess. But he somehow craved the sadness and despair, as if it could bring him closer to her, wherever she was now...

"Why did you leave me?" he whispered into the cold, empty air next to his pillow, his lips brushing the thin cotton fabric beneath his head.

Why. Why.

The thought no longer ended with a question mark. It was a truth, an absolute, and he could never reverse the past, no matter what he dreamt could have been.

_She tricked you. She knew how you felt, and she tricked you._

"No," he said aloud, squeezing his eyes shut.

He had known her so long, known her deeply, known her soul and her heart. And that was real, solid, true. When she'd asked him to be with her, to show her the love she thought she'd never have in the end, she wasn't asking him out of spite. It had been selfish, wrong even, for her to send him tumbling down endlessly, but he had to know that she would never hurt him intentionally.

He had to know.

Because if he didn't, then she wasn't who he thought, who he had _loved _even.

He opened his mouth and squeezed his eyes even tighter, clenching his pillow in his arms, wrapping them so tight, crushing his pain with something physical. He would not cry tonight.

A sob escaped him, though no tears followed. He held his breath, settled against his pillow, and tried to relax. When he took his next breath, deep and strong, he was fine.  
_  
You're fine._

* * *

**May 2, 1999  
**  
He sat with so many people, some he remembered clearly, some he hadn't seen since early school days. Some faces even looked a bit out of place, family members of students he had seen in passing perhaps. Seamus slapped him on the back as he brought another round of drinks for the many people at their little rickety table.

"Odd seeing everybody in one little pub like this," Dean commented, taking a drink from Seamus.

"We're exceeding some limits, I'm sure," Harry laughed, looking around.

Harry was being pulled left and right, so many people wanting to talk to him, and had only just managed to squeeze his way back to his table, to his place next to Ron. The pub was absolutely packed to the brim to the point that it was difficult, near impossible, to make it back to the loo.

"Quite the turn out," Seamus agreed, taking his place to Ron's left. "Cheers, mates!" he said happily, clanking glasses with as many people as he could manage before knocking back half of his drink in one.

"You have some stiff competition, Ron," Harry joked, but Ron didn't particularly find the humor in this statement. He knew he'd developed a disappointing tolerance and wasn't keen to test it out...

"Oy, wanna place some bets, gentlemen?" Seamus asked cheerfully.

"No, no," Ron shook his head, grinning slightly as Seamus nudged him in the ribs. "Just this last one tonight," he said, but it wasn't quite convincing.

"Heard it before," Dean laughed.

"You have no idea," Harry said, taking a long drink.

"Okay, okay," Ron said, shaking his head. "I'm not _that _bad."

"Yeah," Harry said sarcastically, but he grinned back at Ron before taking an exceptionally long drink from his own glass.

And then, out of nowhere, Ginny burst through the crowd around the table, out of breath and eyes wide.

"Harry, Harry," she breathed. Ron leaned away from the back of his chair, waiting to see what was going on, his stomach flipping over nervously for some absurd reason.

"What's going-" Harry started, but Ginny cut him off, pressing her palms into the table to steady herself.

"She... she's here! Look! Look over there!" Ginny pointed through the crowd, and heads moved out of the way just enough to give the table a glimpse...

"Hermione?" Harry shouted, shocked but pleased.

Hermione turned, caught his eye, and grinned over at him.

But then, as if in slow motion, she caught sight of Ron, his eyes boring into her, burning a hole straight through her.

_This can't be real._

He stared at her, blood pounding in his temples. His temperature rose. All noise around him died to a dull rumble beneath the surface of his own breathing. He knew this feeling. He was going to lose control.

Did he hate her now after what she had done? Or did he hate himself? He wasn't going to find out. He looked down again, swallowed the amber liquid that remained in his tall glass, and with a short breath, he stood, his chair scraping against the unpolished wood floor of the pub. She looked on the verge of tears, but he found that he didn't even care. He wanted her to see his eyes once more, to feel that stab of white hot pain again in her own chest.

_See? This is my life._

She couldn't breathe, and he watched her try. But he wasn't going to wait around for her tears. Rage was so much easier to transfer when he did not have to think about what it meant, how she'd cry herself to sleep from just a look... his eyes, so cold and distant, but it was all her fault. Hers, not his.

Yes, it was final. He had come to the conclusion that he had been pondering and worrying over for a year now. And all it had taken was one more look. He had thought, when and if he saw her again, that he'd make a mistake, show her his weakness and vulnerability, show her in the way he sadly watched her every movement that he had betrayed her wishes and continued loving her in her absence.

But, no. It was so very different now staring back at her, seeing her so small and far away. She should have simply never returned, never bothered showing her face before him again.

Maybe he really did hate her, and maybe that was even harder to accept. Maybe...

No sense going over it again. He turned his back on her, ice chipping off his shoulders, and went to the bar for another pint.

* * *

_**A/N:** Some song lyrics from the Fanfarlo track that I can't get out of my head..._

_Time is creeping fast  
Let me introduce  
Someone you once knew  
Walk backwards, walk  
Tell me when you reach home...  
Think of your ideas  
Think really hard__  
And write it down in rhymes  
To make it more believeable  
Sing with your kind  
And tell me when you've gone blind_


	4. The Strength of Loneliness

**Chapter 4: The Strength of Loneliness**

_[Companion Track: Foals - Spanish Sahara (_http : / www . youtube . com /watch?v=YaVE4WVlsDQ&ob=av2e_) ] - remove spaces in link_

_

* * *

_

"Ron," came a voice from behind him, the most tentative and timid sound he could recall ever hearing.

Stonily, he stared forward as he waited for his drink.  
_  
Don't turn around. You can do this._

It was tension like he'd never felt, almost physically pulling him the wrong way. And there was a sigh from her, almost a whimper. He took his drink and his eyes went first, before his head, as he twisted around to look down at her.

"What?" he asked casually, pretending she was anyone else.

He found that looking at her face was not going to work. He couldn't be this close, this entangled in a memory, without attaching those terrifying emotions to it. And anyway, she wasn't replying, just staring back at him.

"What do you want?" he demanded, impatiently shifting from foot to foot.

"Ron, I... I haven't seen you in..."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron spat. "Look, I don't have time to catch up. See, I've got _friends _over there at the table waiting..."

"Oh!" she said nervously, jumping slightly as she turned to look in their direction again. Harry was still smiling. "Yes, sorry. Go... go on."

He nodded and passed her, eyes narrowed.  
_  
See? It's easy._

A string of names he could call her followed one after the other in the back of his mind, and he grimaced as he sat next to Harry, stomach ready to relieve itself of its contents.

"Tell her to join us," Harry was saying to Ginny as she moved back from the table again.

"Why would you do that?" Ron laughed bitterly.

Harry glared at him.

"What?" Ron shrugged, drinking.

"What's your problem?"

"Ask _her_." Ron motioned in Hermione's direction, not looking over at her. But somehow he knew she was crying.

"What did you say to her?" Harry demanded, looking a bit hacked off as he looked from Ron to Hermione and back again. Ginny had reached Hermione where she was still standing by the bar and was clutching her arm gently.

"Why is it always _my _fault?" Ron asked angrily, clanging his glass against the table as he sat back in his chair.

Harry studied him and Dean and Seamus exchanged a worried glance.

"Um," Neville started, fidgeting as he tried to think of something to say to change the subject. "How about Harry's speech today! Great job, mate!" Neville said, though his effort to be lighthearted was unnecessary and see through. He had already congratulated Harry less than an hour ago...

"Ron!" came Ginny's annoyed voice as she suddenly returned to the table again. "Come here a minute..."

Ron stared up at her, showing no sign that he was planning on doing as he was told.

"Come on," she insisted, hands on her hips and eyes flashing.

"Why?" he asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "What do you want?"

"Do you want me to say it in front of everybody?" she asked, teeth slightly clenched. She was furious.

"Fine," Ron sighed, standing. "Sorry," he added to Harry, but Harry just shook his head, looking honestly a bit pleased to be rid of Ron.

"You sodding git," Ginny mumbled as Ron followed her away from the main crowd, towards a less bustling area in a shadowy corner. She rounded on him when they stopped moving and glared up at him.

"Been talking to _her_?" Ron asked, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. He'd learned from the best...

"Thanks to you, she's talking about leaving the party, but I know she wants to see everybody, catch up, and she has every right to. I made her promise to stay until I could talk to you. She wasn't keen, but here we are..." Ginny glared up at him, her eyes narrowed.

"Go on then," Ron said, tired. "Tell me what you think I've done."

"You were a prat to her! Everyone saw the way you looked at her!"

"And I guess everyone knows all of my business, then?" Ron demanded, challenging his sister.

"It doesn't matter what's going on between you two! She's your best friend and you haven't bloody seen her in a year!"

Ron laughed and shook his head.

"Is that _my _fault?" he shouted, prompting the people around them to turn and glance in their direction, curious as to what was going on.

"_That's_ what this is about?" Ginny laughed spitefully. "Grow up, Ron!"

"This is none of your business and you have no right-" Ron started to yell, but he was rendered speechless by the sight of Hermione moving through the crowd behind Ginny, her hair ruffled and eyes a bit bloodshot, looking terrified.

"Ginny," she said hoarsely, tentatively, when she reached them.

Ginny whipped around to face Hermione.

"Don't, it's okay," Hermione said softly.

"But he deserves it," Ginny said quickly to Hermione before facing Ron again. "Every time I turn around you've made her cry! It isn't fair!"

"Ginny!" Hermione shouted, actually moving between them now. "I said stop!"

Nearly everyone in the bar was trying to surreptitiously eavesdrop on their row now, and Harry was moving slowly through the crowd towards them.

Ginny and Hermione shared a long glance before Ginny shrugged, clearly not happy, but willing to give Hermione what she wanted.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said softly to Ron, facing him but eyes cast down.

Ron tried to reply, but no words came to him...

"I don't just mean about tonight," Hermione continued, voice cracking. "Please... f-forgive me."

When Ron still remained speechless, Hermione finally looked up at him. His throat went dry, his heart beat faster, and he found it hard to remember what he had even been angry about all these months in the first place...

But as he continued to watch her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with shaking fingers, it slowly came back to him.

_You're supposed to hate her now. This is her fault... isn't it?_

"I... I just want to try to be friends again. I hoped that if I left you for a while, gave you some time..." She looked lost and desperate as she looked up at him, so tiny compared to him. "Please... I know you hate me, I know. But maybe we can... maybe... things _can _be how they were before... eventually. I... I really missed you. Can we... try?"

The pub had gotten much too quiet. Ron didn't respond right away, lingering on her words as he watched her. And she continued to stare up at him, hope building in her eyes as she waited for him to answer.

He still loved her.

It was a fact that could not be altered by simple denial. He had known it all along, whether he had been able to admit it to himself or not. In fact, it was possible to even say that it was the only happiness he had left to cling to... love, whether returned to him or not. And holding tightly to what he should have given to her, or at least offered, wasn't doing him any good. It was crushing him.

But he had handled it for this long, had held his head above the surface. He was strong enough for this. He had learned that about himself, though he hadn't expected the truth he'd slowly discovered.

And he knew what he had to do.

_...she doesn't love you..._

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head sadly. "I can't."

And his eyes, previously blind to all others around him as he'd focused in on all he loved standing in front of him, suddenly revealed Harry standing there so close, mouth slightly open in horror as he watched Ron back away from Hermione. She covered her mouth with her hands to keep from sobbing in front of the whole bar, and she stepped back from Ron too, though not intentionally. Ginny reached out to steady her as tears rolled down her cheeks in steady streams.

Ron turned his back on her, swallowed hard, attempting to clear the massive lump from his throat, and headed for the door. He felt someone following him and knew it was Harry without turning to see him.

He was done trying, though she had asked him so pitifully from the start to do just that. And in a way, he had promised her he would. But she had broken her end of the promise. If things really hadn't changed, she wouldn't have turned him down when he offered to go with her to Australia. Though he had gone over this before, the idea that if they hadn't ever been together, if his feelings hadn't been what they were, so strong and sure, he might not have assumed so much from the beginning, that she'd even want him to go with her. He was her friend, and he had used that as an excuse to think that she was wrong all along for leaving him. But Harry had never questioned her need to go alone. And Ron had seen that as a difference between them that could only be attributed to one thing...  
_  
You still love her._

And maybe that was his biggest problem...

* * *

"You're a bastard," Harry spat, his words slightly slurred but still forceful, a punch in the chest if Ron hadn't been so distracted, so dismissive, as he reached for his jacket on the rack by the door.

"Sure, I know I am," Ron said as he worked one arm into his jacket, struggling only slightly with the second one.

"Go home." Harry's eyes narrowed as he half willed Ron to vanish on the spot.

Ron laughed, his voice louder than Harry had expected, and Harry flinched at the sound.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Ron said through a spiteful chuckle. He opened the door, the cold night air billowing in with a sudden gust of wind, slapping Harry in the face, waking him from his stupor. Ron stepped out into the night, ready to disappear.

"Stop!" Harry shouted, following Ron into the street, the door slamming shut behind them with a bang that could have been a gun shot. Ron jumped now, turned to face Harry, and shoved his hands impatiently into his pockets.

"Make up your mind," he demanded with a fast and frustrated sigh.

"Wake up, Ron! Stop acting like you don't care."

"Fucking hell, Harry! That's the exact opposite of what I've been doing!" Ron sighed exasperatedly and rocked on his heels, ready to run away again, like he always did...

"You should be happy that she's-"

But Ron held up a hand to stop Harry, his eyes flashing with anger again.

"I should be happy she's back? Oh, should I?" Ron scoffed and lowered his hand. "Piss off. Go and find your _little girl_ and tell her everything's okay. Tell her that Ron's just gone a little too far, gotten himself a little too drunk..."

"That's exactly what you've-"

"You have no sodding idea." Ron's voice cut through Harry's thickly, stopping him short mid-sentence.

"Then explain it to me." It was all Harry really needed, just something to understand, to make sense of this, whatever had ripped them so violently apart.

But Ron grinned, something sad hidden under his mask of resentment.

"No. I'll save her that much..."

He turned his back on Harry and walked into the night, the street lamps lighting his path and making him glow almost too brightly each time he passed directly under them. Harry wanted to call him back, to sit him down and make him explain. But something nagged at him, something strange and confusing... something he'd have to work out. Because there was one thing he knew now, one thing he was sure of. Whatever Ron was hiding, he was hiding it for Hermione too. And that, if nothing else, said all the things that Ron could not say. He still cared. He wasn't the bastard Harry had called him, not quite.

So Harry did not call him back, did not ask him about it again. And, his mind made up for now, he opened the pub door and re-entered the cheery warmth of the place, none of it quite reaching his bones or his heart. He spotted Hermione sitting with Ginny, her face flushed, tear stains on both cheeks, though she wasn't crying anymore. Her lips looked incapable of turning up into a smile, something Harry had never seen on her before. But when she saw him, she tried. Harry nodded and went to the bar.

All year he had been the one to tell her everything was fine. In her letters, she'd ask about Ron, every time, and her concern was overwhelming, though she tried to mask it. She was terrified that he wouldn't want to talk to her or see her when she returned. Harry had been the one to convince that she was mental, that Ron would always care for her and be there for her as a friend. But now, Harry was done being the middle man, done lying to Hermione, making excuses for Ron, because in the end, Harry's stories were exactly what Ron expected, exactly what he had known would be said all along... and they were exactly the opposite of the truth.


	5. If You Believe

**Chapter 5: If You Believe**

_[Companion Track: Frightened Rabbit - Floating in the Forth (_http : / www . youtube . com /watch?v=Yn4nQQ-r8xY_) ] - remove spaces in link_

_

* * *

_**May 9, 1999**

Hermione glanced around the empty flat, biting her lip. It was what she'd said she wanted, after all.

"I think it's nice," Ginny remarked, looking out the back window. "What do you think?"

Hermione nodded, studying the white walls of the living room with more interest than was normal. She was trying so hard to be optimistic.

"Shall we see a few more?" Ginny continued, rejoining Hermione in the living room.

"No," Hermione said, "no, I think this one is fine."

Ginny studied her for a moment, and Hermione attempted a half-smile back. It had been a week since her encounter with Ron, and she hadn't seen him since... Funny, how a week could seem as long as a year...

"Do you want to talk about it?" Ginny asked, reading Hermione's mind, though it wasn't hard to imagine what she was thinking about. He was all she ever thought about these days...

"No," Hermione said shortly before adding, "I'd better go sign the paperwork and make a deposit."

Ginny nodded, but looked a bit sad by Hermione's change of subject. It was so easy for her to dismiss it, not to address it and pretend it wasn't happening. After all, in her dreams, she had never left him, never abandoned the one thing that she wanted most in the world... Her punishment now was that look she'd seen in his eyes, cruel and unforgiving. She didn't deserve him, even as a friend.

Ginny followed Hermione out of the flat and waited while she paid for the first month.

"Back to yours?" Ginny asked, preparing to Apparate. Hermione nodded, and they Disapparated in unison.

When they arrived in the back garden at Hermione's parents house, Ginny groaned, having landed in the little fish pond by the bay window.

"Every time," she grumbled, stepping out and shaking water from her trainers. Hermione managed a small chuckle as Ginny attempted to squeeze excess water from the bottoms of her trousers.

"My parents aren't home," Hermione said as they entered through the kitchen. "I'll just go up and send my boxes over to the new flat. Have some biscuits if you like..."

Hermione motioned towards a large black tin on the counter and Ginny happily opened the lid as Hermione disappeared up the stairs. She needed this, time to herself to leave her old life behind, not that she had really been able to call her room here her own for quite some time. As she finally reached the top of the stairs, she felt her legs trembling, a telltale sign that she was moments from a breakdown. It had been this way for so long now, since she'd gone to Australia perhaps...

And why, _why _had she left him again?

She moaned frustratedly as she entered her room and collapsed onto her bed, lowering her head into her hands. It had made so much sense before. He was only going to tag along as her friend if he came with her. His family needed him, and he only felt like he should go with her because of what had happened between them. She sensed things that she hadn't been aware of before, changes in the way he looked at her. And she had known it from the start, from the moment she'd walked out of the guest bedroom at Shell Cottage and committed to forgetting what they'd just done. She had _known _it would turn out like this! She had managed to put on a strong face and convince herself that it was nothing, that it would _mean _nothing... But when he'd asked to come with her to Australia, actually _assumed _he'd be going, she realized that she had no choice but to go alone. It would be difficult, she'd miss him terribly, but finally, once she'd helped her parents to sell their house and their business and pack for their return trip, things could be better. They _could_.

Or so she had fooled herself into believing.

Until the night before she left Sydney for London...

She had panicked, pacing, restless, all through the night. What if she came home and he had a girlfriend? She had absolutely _no _right whatsoever to care. But she did. And that would always be the truth. Which made it that much worse that she had never bothered to _tell _him that she would be upset if he found someone else...

It all came rushing to her at once, like a tidal wave she couldn't see coming until she was drowning beneath it. All the way on the plane she could do nothing but worry over what he'd think, how he'd look at her, if she'd even be able to face him at all...

Harry's letters had been lovely to receive, and in them, she had gotten glimpses of Ron's life back home, though she had trouble believing them completely. Harry was so vague and to the point, telling her that Ron was fine and doing well in Auror training, but he never really got into what she wanted to know, never really told her about his personal life, the things she dreaded and even the things she hoped for... And honestly, most of the time, she couldn't figure out which was which. She would hope that he was happy, then she'd wish she knew that he wasn't... unhappy because he missed her or wanted to be with her the way she wanted to be with him. She would dread finding out that he _was _happy because it would mean he didn't need her, but it was just as horrible to imagine him in pain, pain that she had surely caused by abandoning him without good reason.

And now, she couldn't name a single thing she wouldn't give up to just see him smile at her one more time. And that, sadly, was looking less and less likely to ever be possible. He hated her, plain and simple. She'd been right when she'd considered that he might. And this time, being right was the worst thing she could be...

"Hermione?" came Ginny's voice from the stairs as she ascended them slowly.

Hermione stood quickly and began aiming her wand at random boxes, vanishing them to her new flat.

"In here!" Hermione shouted shrilly as she continued her quick work.

Ginny turned the corner and stood in the doorway, watching Hermione.

"You're really good at that," Ginny remarked, watching how fast Hermione's things disappeared around them.

"There," Hermione said with a final flourish. "They should all be at the new flat now."

"What about the furniture?" Ginny asked, looking at Hermione's lovely ivory bed, headboard made of beautifully carved entwined roses and vines.

"Might need your help," Hermione said, and Ginny took out her wand, looking skeptical. "On three."

"One, two, three!" Ginny counted, and together, they sent the rest of Hermione's furniture to the unknown... hopefully to Hermione's new flat.

"Well, better go and check that everything got there alright," Ginny said with a lopsided smile. "Hermione," she added as Hermione nodded, pulling her hair out of her face and into a bun, "you sure you wouldn't like to talk about it?"

"Ginny, I really messed things up with him, and he doesn't need to forgive me," Hermione sighed. "Let's just forget it. I'll be okay."

"Hermione," Ginny continued, not ready to give up yet, "you didn't do anything wrong! Just because you left... that's why he's so angry, and you needed time for yourself, for your family... and he should let it go! Yeah, you were gone a long time, but it wasn't like you just went on a holiday! He's being a bit selfish."

"That's not really fair, Ginny," Hermione said shortly, sadly, as she shook her head. "You don't really understand the full picture, and I'm sorry, but I really can't tell you."

"Hermione..." Ginny said softly, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Let's just leave it at 'me and Ron don't agree' and move on..."

"Don't agree about what?" Ginny persisted.

Hermione's lips whitened as she pressed them together, willing herself not to cry now. She didn't want to give Ginny any more reason to continue questioning her, but Ginny stepped a few feet closer to Hermione and let out a long sigh.

"Just tell me one thing," she said, clearly already knowing the answer. "Is this all because you think he doesn't fancy you?"

Startled, Hermione's eyes widened as she stared back at Ginny.

"Ginny, t-that's not even a question! You heard him. He wants nothing to do with me," Hermione rambled, squeezing her hands together nervously. "Y-you've got the wrong idea..."

"Have I?" Ginny continued, stepping even closer. "Because you know he _does _fancy you, right?"

Hermione shook her head so erratically that her hair came loose from its bun.

"Why do you think he's so hacked off that you left him for a year?" Ginny said reasonably, raising her eyebrows as if daring Hermione to contradict her logic.

"B-because it's not what reasonable friends do when they don't have something to run away from!" Hermione shouted before she could stop herself.

"What did you run away from?" Ginny asked, eyebrows furrowed yet again.

"N-nothing, Ginny. Please, let's go..." Hermione tried, desperately hoping that Ginny would drop it.

It took a long moment, but finally, Ginny gave up and nodded.

"To my new flat," Hermione said, trying to sound cheerful, putting their conversation and all that it meant as far back into the recesses of her mind as she could...

They Disapparated with two distinct pops, leaving Hermione's old bedroom completely empty and silent.

* * *

Hermione sat quietly at the back of the restaurant she had chosen for dinner, hands trembling slightly on her utensils as she tried to clean her plate. It was like forcing down medicine. The mere thought of food made her feel queasy on a good day.

She had begun to list, inside her own head, all the ways she could convince him, over time, of her worth. She could offer to help him with his work, maybe even do some of it for him. But what if he thought she was being unkind, claiming to know more about what he was doing than he did? She could simply stay out of his way and slowly reduce their former friendship to casual acquaintances. After all, maybe, if she happened by him in the halls at the Ministry, he wouldn't even get a long enough moment with her to remember why he was angry...?

But it all fell apart when she closed her eyes, the last picture she had of his face etched into the backs of her eyeslids. Rage. And worst of all perhaps, hurt.

_He hates you._

_And he'll never forgive you._

And suddenly, she didn't even care where she was or who might be watching. She sobbed, allowing all of her tears to spill, tears she had been resisting all day. She covered her face with her hands, blocking her pain from the other people in the restaurant, though she was so far away from the nearest table that she was sure no one would bother looking in her direction. Light music covered the sounds of her sobs, and she allowed everything to go free, accepting this new part of her life... the one she had unknowingly created...

And then she heard them... soft voices approaching her table. She chanced a sly glance between her fingers. And was horrified, frozen by who she saw.

Harry and Ron.

Holding her breath, she could hear them whispering, oblivious to the fact that she had noticed them.

"I'm not going over," Ron hissed.

"Fine, go get us a table," Harry replied.

"Harry," Ron continued, desperate.

"You want me to ignore her?"

"S-she probably won't be happy to see you," Ron continued, sounding almost... scared?

"You know why she's crying, don't you?" Harry said, though it wasn't a question Ron needed to answer. "This isn't about taking sides, Ron."

"I know, I know, I never said..."

"Go before she sees you," Harry said roughly.

"I..." Ron began, not moving from his spot, staring over at her.

Watching her.

She could have passed out from holding her breath so long. It was a distinct possibility. But seeing him looking at her that way... It was almost as if he cared.

"Right," Ron said suddenly, snapping out of his trance and turning away, a trace of something hidden beneath the surface. Disappointment. Sadness. As if he wanted what he knew he shouldn't.

"Hermione," Harry said, completely shocking Hermione out of her daze, unaware, as she had been watching Ron so carefully, that Harry had already reached her table.

She managed to jump realistically, acting her surprise at his presence in the same restaurant that she had randomly chosen to dine in alone.

"Oh!" she said, quickly wiping her face clean. "Harry."

Harry stared down at her, pity written across his face as he visibly fumbled for something worthwhile to say.

"Please, Harry," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Go have your dinner. I'm just on my way back home."

Hermione stood, glancing over Harry's shoulder, hoping to catch sight of Ron without Harry noticing...

"Ginny said you rented a flat today?" Harry asked.

"Yes, it's lovely," Hermione said with a nod. "You should come by and see it. Soon."

"I will," Harry said with a smile. "Promise me something before you go."

"What?"

"Take care of yourself, and if you need someone to talk to..."

"I'll come and find you," Hermione finished for him. He reached out one arm a bit awkwardly before pulling her into a hug.

"I'm really happy you're back," Harry said sincerely as he pulled away again.

"At least that's one of you," Hermione said, grinning to mask her despair with what she hoped was a joke. But Harry's smile fell and she shook her head. "Don't worry," she added, adjusting her shirt.

But just before she turned to go, Harry leaned in closer. At the exact same moment, Ron rounded the corner again, clearly trying to go unnoticed, and for the briefest of moments, Hermione's eyes met his, just as Harry whispered into her ear...

"He'll change his mind..."

And maybe, if she tried as hard as she could, she could believe it.

Ron looked down, scuffed his feet on the rug, and turned away again, leaving her with nothing once more.

Harry shared one last look with Hermione, nodded, and turned, following Ron out of sight.

Her eyes closed, and this time, she didn't see Ron's furious face in her mind. She saw something new...

And maybe... _maybe _she could even call it hope.

* * *

_**A/N:** I chose Floating in the Forth as my companion track because although it's a very depressing and sad song, it has a positive note by the character in the song deciding not to end his life just yet... not yet. I thought it fit very well with what I wanted to say with this chapter. Everything is still destroyed, but things have a chance of being fixed, if not the way they ultimately want them, at least back to something that could be considered neutral... rather than totally devastating. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and will stick with it through all the angst for the eventual pay off :)_


	6. Games

**Chapter 6: Games**

_[Companion Track: Filthy Dukes - Poison the Ivy (_http : / listen . grooveshark . com /#/search/songs/?query=filthy%20dukes%20poison%20the%20ivy_) ] - remove spaces in link_

_

* * *

_

"Ron? ...Ron?"

Ron looked up, aware suddenly of Harry staring across the table at him.

"Sorry," he said gruffly, clearing his throat. "What did you say?"

But Harry just stared back at him, some distant knowing look hidden in his eyes.

"Sorry," Ron said again, picking at what was left of his food. "We were working out the case... for tomorrow..."

Harry nodded, still carefully watching Ron, and Ron felt his ears burn, trying to focus.

_See what you do to me?_

All it took was just that one glimpse of her, and he _knew _that... every time. It was going to be this way... he couldn't change it. All he could do was fake his own life to get through to the other side.

"We can talk more about it in the morning," Harry concluded, taking a last sip of his water and standing.

Ron said nothing. There was nothing he needed to say. Harry understood. And Ron was glad he didn't need to explain.

He chose to walk home alone, rather than Apparating from their usual place. It wasn't a particularly cold night, though he had hoped for a chill to knock himself out of his trance. Nights like this, stars out and streets quiet, he often let his mind wander too far, and tonight, he wanted nothing to do with his memories.

But as it always happened, when he wanted to shut them out the most, that was exactly when they chose to taunt him, terrorize him, and force him to face them.

He could believe that she loved him once. He could even, at his lowest moments, insert a tiny little whisper in his ear, her voice soft and passionate, telling him just that. It had not been there at first, when he'd thought back on that night, but it was so easy, more than a year later now, to alter what he wanted, creating something close to the perfection he had never been offered.

As he reached the entrance to his flat, he cleared his head, remembering what he had discovered in that instant when she'd finally asked for what he had been waiting to give her - forgiveness. For a year, every day, all he wanted was to get the chance to forgive her... and to forgive himself. But when offered just that, he had turned it down, unable to accept it. And he knew why. This game he played inside his head, the war he was constantly fighting... in some small way, it kept him alive.

He had two options if he wanted a way out... He could accept her apology and learn to live with what she had done, learn to live as just her _friend _again. Or he could continue as if she had never returned at all.

But the truth was, he had _no _real way out. Neither of his options were possible now. He knew that, even when he refused to admit it to anyone else. He was stuck here waiting, between what had happened and a future that lay empty and dark before him.

That was it then. He had this, and only this, to sustain him. The pub, make believe, and sideways glances he had to be sure she never saw.

If he was careful enough, maybe he would always have that... at least.

* * *

**May 14, 1999**

The pub was crowded tonight, loaded with Ministry employees happy to have finally reached the end of their work week. Ron had been lucky, or perhaps terribly unlucky, in the fact that he had not encountered Hermione one single time in the hallways at the Ministry, at the Burrow with Ginny, or even at Harry's flat. It was like he had developed a magnetism that her own was repelled to now. His sheer presence reduced the likelihood that she'd show up by a large percentage.

Which was why, on this lovely summer evening, he had occasion to consider himself very unlucky... or very, _very _lucky.

She entered the pub with Ginny, adjusting her thin top over her stomach to be sure she wasn't showing an inch of skin. He had seen the motion before countless times. It had annoyed him often, when he'd wanted that one little casual glance, something he had decided fit under the category of 'innocent' when not much else he could surreptitiously take part in could really fall there. Tonight proved no different, a familiar disappointment rising too close to the surface as instinct took over.

But he was in control, knowing it was his turn to move a piece on the board of wizard's chess laid out between himself and Seamus. The smell of fire whiskey permeated the air as Seamus knocked back another shot.

"Check mate," Ron said, almost unhappy about it. It was so easy to win, that it had become far less of a real sport to him, no challenge presented by his opponent.

"Shocker," Seamus said, rolling his eyes as he stared down at Ron's perfect check mate.

"Why do you even bother playing with him, Seamus?" asked a pretty blonde girl seated very close to Seamus.

She shook her head, looking from Seamus to Ron and back again. And then she stood, moved around to Ron's side of the table, and leaned in, squinting at the board as if trying to find some flaw in Ron's last move. And it was then that Ron knew something, without a doubt. He didn't even need to look up to confirm it, but it was some small comfort to know that he _could_. And so he did, almost against his own will...

Hermione looked down suddenly, across the pub at the table she shared with Ginny. It didn't take any amount of investigative work to know that she had just been watching him.

"That's it for me," Ron said, standing and turning away from his confirmation. He wasn't fit to do this, not now. He couldn't be as responsible as he'd like to be for his own actions. He had learned that lesson too well...

"Really, mate?" Seamus asked skeptically.

"Yeah, sorry," Ron said with a half-smile, leaving the pub before he had time to second guess his decision. He felt her eyes on him. He knew she was watching him. But he didn't turn. Not this time.

* * *

**May 21, 1999**

If she could come here to this same pub every week, face him without speaking, without making a scene, then he sure as hell could too. They played a silent game against each other, challenging each other not to look, not to be too interested... And all too quickly, it became much more fun than the chess matches Seamus continually requested, losing so swiftly each time. It was mindless, but perfect to aid in his distraction, like he was too busy to even acknowledge her. How long could he keep this up? It felt like he had no reason to stop, and therefore, he let it go farther than he knew he should.

Leaving the pub for the second time, he smiled to himself, pleased with every moment he'd felt her eyes boring into him, making his heart beat faster.

It wasn't healthy. It was, in fact, detrimental to what he had told her, that he wouldn't be able to forgive her. But he had no intention of giving it up, like a drug he wasn't yet ready to admit he was so madly addicted to.

* * *

**May 28, 1999**

Hermione watched him from what had become her usual spot, all the way across the pub, her back to the wall, perfectly angled to see him without him knowing. But she had begun to sense that he was onto her, had even caught him grinning down at his chess board for no apparent reason after his eyes had darted in a most peculiar way around the pub... He could have been hoping to land on something pleasurable, finding that his suspicions had been correct. Though she couldn't really be so optimistic with her thoughts. He had never offered her another word, not since the night she'd returned and made a fool of herself in front of the whole pub...

"Here," Ginny said, unwisely handing Hermione her third drink of the evening. She wasn't used to this, no tolerance at all to the alcohol she had taken to consuming every Friday night.

"I probably shouldn't," Hermione started to say, but her lips turned up into a small smile as she sipped on it anyway, and Ginny grinned, taking pleasure in the sight of Hermione finally enjoying herself, or at least giving off the impression that she was. It wasn't happiness, and could by no means be called such, but she now felt something that she had forgotten how to feel before... and sadly, she knew why.

Ron stood again, and for a fleeting moment, she wanted to rush over and ask him to stay, though it was as absurd as approaching a stranger and explaining to them how your night just would not be the same without them... So she let him go, as he had been doing, early to leave like he was making his exit part of the event. And it wasn't worth drinking without him there, whether he was really aware of her or not... whether she had simply been letting herself imagine that the little game she'd been playing wasn't one sided after all...

* * *

**June 4, 1999  
**  
Ginny had turned down the invitation Hermione had offered her to come out tonight... plans with Harry, she's said. And it had almost derailed Hermione in her decision to go at all, but she persevered, claiming in her own head that it was a sign of her ability to do what she wanted without _him _affecting her. The truth was that she could not force herself to turn down the one thing she knew she had left. She knew he'd be there. He always was. And it was comforting to see something familiar, even in the midst of the strange row they seemed to be having non-verbally...

It was easier to sneak her usual glances this time without anyone there to take her attention away from her game.

She felt her usual tinge of jealousy when she'd watch the girls around the table move in closer to him, though she had to admit that he never seemed the least bit interested or like he really noticed. One was being particularly annoying tonight, moving through the pub as if on a cloud, floating almost. It was in these moments that Hermione confessed truly to her own heart that she had no stake in him or his whereabouts. It made her feel as small as she had ever imagined she could feel... and as useless, helpless.

This wasn't real. They were two people with no connection and no purpose together. She could vanish and he would still exist. But she had honestly begun to believe that the reverse would not hold true...

She stood and went to the loo, feeling a bit queasy at the way this sweet, thin, _beautiful _girl was running her fingers through her own perfectly tame hair...

Washing her face with cold water, Hermione managed to clear her head a bit. It was the most unhealthy thing she could do, to stay here alone like this, drinking too much. But even that rational realization did not stop her from returning to her table.

A long stare down at her half-empty pint, and then it was time for another sly glance. But he was gone.

Alert suddenly by his absence, she panicked, terrified that she had missed his exit, missed the way he would walk casually, hands in his pockets, to the back door, letting it swing a little too wide, giving her a view of him as he began to walk slowly down the dark, damp street beyond...

She took inventory on the pub customers, ticking them off in her head, her mental checklist to be sure she had not missed a clue. Her shaking hands clasped her mug and she found that it didn't take much for her to finish her drink and crave another.

_Where could he be?_

Two drinks later, he was still nowhere to be found, and she was on the point of imagining what would happen if she asked Seamus where he had disappeared to when she realized something... There was something wrong. Ron's usual table was far too empty.

Gasping, she felt her eyes begin to water. The lovely girl she had seen near their table earlier was gone too.

She was being ridiculous, paranoid... insane.

And she had _no _right!

She downed her drink and stood on shaky legs for just one more...

_Please let him come back..._

But it was driving her mental, waiting without knowing the truth. She felt her body taking over from her mind, her heart trying to completely derail her rational side from its insistence that she needed to go home.

Her body and her heart won the battle by a landslide. She turned her head left, then right, catching a wave of dizziness like she had never experienced before. She was drunk. And she had never let it go this far in the past...  
_  
He's fine. He's just gone home..._

_Home._

And then she had to know, completely abandoning all reason, all logic... and accepting the chance of losing what little she really had left at all with him. And it was so close to nothing already. Perhaps that's why it was so easy for her to run for the back door, a gust of warm wind hitting her in the face as she turned on the spot.

And then she was standing in the middle of his living room. It was dark, empty, cold... silent. The sudden drastic change from rowdy pub to deserted flat was like a heart attack, squeezing her so tight that she was unable to breathe properly. Her eyes so wide she couldn't even blink, she scanned the living room, knowing he wasn't home after all.

"R-ron?" she whispered into the emptiness, expecting no response.

Like a bucket of ice water over her head, she regained a portion of her former senses, enough to examine what she had just done.

She was standing in the middle of his flat. She was drunk and he hated her. And she was standing in the middle of his flat!

But... but how had she gotten here in the first place? She'd never even been inside before. She knew, vaguely, where he lived, but he was an Auror in training. He would surely know better than to leave his flat open to anyone who might wish to pay him a visit. She shouldn't have been able to Apparate inside at all. It didn't make sense... but then nothing seemed to at the moment.

And just as suddenly as she had gone from panicking inside the pub to standing, frozen, inside his flat, she broke into tears. She felt like this, not knowing where he was, an unknown that she could not predict or truly understand, was a sign against her. All that she had felt and built at that little table in the back of the pub had been the lie she had known that it was all along.

He was out. It was 2am. And she had no idea where he was. There was, at the moment, only one logical conclusion to be drawn... and she felt anything but logical standing here, staring longingly at the bottle of fire whiskey on his mantle...

He was with a girl. And it wasn't her.

"Why _would _it be you?" she spat angrily to herself, reaching out for the bottle greedily, unscrewing the top with some difficulty.

And, sinking down into his arm chair, she allowed herself to drown, deeper than she had gone until now. When she discovered how easy it was not to resurface, she grinned, her blood boiling. She was spinning, much too fast to attempt a full stop.  
_  
See? It's easy._

And she pressed the bottle to her lips for another drink.


	7. My Enemy, Please Stay Close to Me

**Chapter 7: My Enemy, Please Stay Close to Me**

_[Companion Track: Blonde Redhead - Spring and By Summer Fall (_http : / www . youtube . com /watch?v=a2G9EZfhAc8_) ] - remove spaces in link_

* * *

**June 5, 1999**

**4am**

Ron Apparated directly into his living room... and his eyes landed immediately on... _Hermione_? !

She stood frantically from his arm chair as if electrocuted, his now empty bottle of fire whiskey rolling off her lap and onto the floor.

"What the-" Ron started, bewildered by her presence, but she cut across him, hair as wild as he had ever seen it.

"Where have you been? !"

He was so shocked by his sudden proximity to her and the absurd circumstance of her even standing here in his flat that he was unable to comprehend her question. He fumbled, opening his mouth and making sounds that formed no real words.

"Y-you've been gone for hours!" Hermione shouted shrilly, trembling now. "You d-disappeared!"

"I... I didn't..." he began, words still obviously failing him as he stared, wide-eyed and beyond shocked, back at Hermione.

"Where. were. you? !" she demanded again, but her voice caught and broke at the last minute. Awareness of what she was doing was so obviously creeping up on her, but it was impossible to back track now...

"I was at Harry's," Ron answered thickly, honestly... totally clueless.

"Until 4am? !" Hermione questioned skeptically.

"I went to his flat and fell asleep on the couch, then I Apparated home when I woke up..." Ron continued, feeling like he was under some sort of bizarre spotlight, but with nothing to hide.

It then dawned on him that he had no reason to answer her questions in the first place. He was the one who needed to be asking the questions!

"What are _you _doing here? !" he asked, mouth hanging slightly open once the words had left him.

"I-I..." she started, swaying on the spot, obviously plastered. "I... think it should be obvious!"

Ron stared back dumbly, absolutely no logical conclusions coming to mind.

"Enlighten me," he said, eyes still wide as he watched her stumbling to keep her balance.

"Are you lying to me?" she asked, throwing him off.

"About what?"

"About where you were!" she yelled, her voice practically ringing off the walls.

"No!" Ron shouted back, eyebrows furrowed as he watched her breathe heavily through her mouth. "Why would I be lying to you? ! And anyway, don't change the subject! You still haven't answered _my _question!"

Her flushed cheeks reddened several shades deeper, and she reached out to steady herself with a shaking hand on Ron's mantle. His foot moved instinctively, protectively, in her direction, but he managed to quell the impulse and remain rooted to his safe spot ten feet away from her. He needed answers, and he wasn't moving until she gave them.

She looked away from him, focused on something he obviously couldn't see, something that felt distant and foreign... and then her eyes began to shine with tears. She pressed her lips together, holding her breath.

"What the bloody hell is going on? !" Ron demanded, impatience mounting.

His booming voice broke through her resolve, and she began to sob. He watched as she tried to control herself, ducking to hide her face from him.

"I th-thought you went home with _her_... th-that girl..." she cried.

His eyes widened again, wondering... surprisingly himself by _hoping _even...

Then, slowly, her back pressed to the wall, she slid down to the floor, hiding her face in her arms, tucking her knees to her chest protectively. When she lifted her head again, her forehead was creased deeply in pain, cheeks glistening in the moonlight. Ron stared down at her, frozen...

"I d-don't even like that pub!" she wailed, squeezing her legs even tighter against her chest. "I o-only go to s-see you!"

Ron's chest constricted and a lump began to form in his throat, telltale signs that he was on the verge of _something _he had been trying to control...

"I'm s-so stupid!" she cried, clutching her legs, her body tightly balled up against the wall.

Her head swayed even as she cried, and Ron could sense that she was beyond drunk, further than she had ever gone perhaps. He wondered if he should factor in this truth as he processed every word she spoke, but he was too far gone, if he really admitted it, to allow such logic to compute.

"Are you drunk?" he asked, knowing the answer, and also assuming that she wouldn't admit it.

She tried to shake her head but clamped her eyes shut at the attempted motion, an involuntary moan escaping her.

"I h-have to g-go..." she said, as embarrassed suddenly as he could ever recall seeing her.

She pressed her hands to the floor and, using the wall as support, attempted to stand. She made it, just barely, and looked down, breathing unsteadily as she tried to compose herself.

"I'm sorry..." she managed to whisper through tight lips, and she reached into her pocket, withdrawing her wand with trembling fingers.

"No!" Ron shouted without warning, surprising even himself as he stepped closer to her. "You..." he continued, trying to overcompensate for his momentary lack of sense. "You shouldn't Apparate like that. You'll splinch yourself, believe me..."

She stared up at him, her palms still pressed back against his wall on either side of her body.

Ron remembered it clearly, the first time he'd tried to Apparate while drunk, a completely insane move that had cost him a toenail and a large chunk of hair...

For a long moment, she stared into his eyes, and he stared back. Speechless, they both waited for something to happen, to break them out of their trance.

Ron couldn't look away, with all the power he had and the strength he thought he had built up against her... It flew away as if it had never been there in the first place.

_What's wrong with you? !  
_

If things had been so very different, he might have had the courage to actually _hug _her. The thought made him queasy, and he blinked. Spell broken, she looked away from him finally, and he could only hear one thought repetitively inside his own head...

_No! Come back!_

"Then I'll walk," she said softly, pushing against the wall and letting her legs take over completely. She swayed, but managed a few steps.

_Stop her!_

"It's dangerous!" he shouted. "It's four in the morning." He would physically stop her if it came to that, and he was terrified of this fact. She looked up, caught his worry lines, and narrowed her eyes as more tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Don't l-look at me like that!" she cried, devastation and utter embarrassment in every word.

Oh God, he loved her. And it hurt so much.

_I'll do whatever you want. Just please, __**please **__don't go..._

"I'll make you coffee," he blurted, and her lips parted, the only sign she allowed to show at the shock she obviously felt from his sudden kindness.

He turned around, back towards her, before she could answer.

_What the hell are you doing? !  
_

He went to the kitchen, where she couldn't see him, and brewed coffee, hands shaking.  
_  
If she's gone when you get back, you'll be fine. And you'll know what it means, and you won't follow her..._

Nodding to himself just to convince his own heart that he wouldn't try to run after her, he felt that he had no choice but to check on her.

_Just to be sure she hasn't passed out..._

Rationalizations were utterly useless, even as he tried to make them. Every move he made was because he was terrified that this would turn out to be a dream, that he would lose her again.

_But you don't have her!_

He peeked around the doorway. She was in his living room still, sitting on his sofa. Relief flooded him as he returned to the coffee. And as quickly and steadily as possible, he poured her a mug, not filling it too close to the top, knowing his own limits in carrying a hot beverage with nerves going as haywire as they were now.

The walk from the kitchen to the sofa was agonizing, her body moving closer to his with each step. He couldn't sit next to her. It would crush him to be so close to what he knew he couldn't have.

"Here," he said, holding the mug out towards her. Terror that she would touch his fingers in the act of taking the cup washed over him as she lifted a hand in his direction.

"T-thank you," she said, though the shock of all that was taking place now in the middle of the night, alone together, was evident as she tried so very hard not to touch him, almost unable to take the offered mug with such effort against physical contact. But she managed, and sipped the coffee slowly.

Almost immediately, she squeezed her eyes shut, head lolling.

"Dizzy?" Ron asked, standing so tall over her, frozen in front of her.

She nodded slowly, each move she made becoming harder and harder to master with every passing second.

"I think I-" but she broke off, opening her eyes and shoving the coffee back towards Ron. With less regard this time for the possibility of contact, her fingers pressed briefly to his palm, and he just managed to squeeze the mug in time as she let go, standing and clutching the arm of the couch.

She stumbled out of the living room, into his hallway.

He couldn't move.

But he _had _to.

"H-Hermione?" he tried, and somehow, just saying her name broke him the rest of the way down. He set the coffee on the end table and rushed out of the room after her.

And where he found her was a place he never thought he'd see her. In his bedroom. On the floor at the end of his bed.

"I have to g-go home. I can't be here," she whispered, fists clenched in his blanket where it fell over the end of the unmade bed.

"Yes, you can," he said, his voice as steady as he could possibly make it. "It's okay."

"You _hate _me," she reminded him. It cut him just to hear the words aloud, confirmation that she believed them wholeheartedly.

A lie. It was so obvious now. And she believed that very lie, the one he'd tried to trick himself into believing.

"No. I don't," he said, all caution lost.

"Wh-why not?" she cried, looking up at him with the saddest eyes in the world. His heart broke over again with each second that passed.

"Please stay here," Ron said, eyes narrowed to avoid the tears he felt burning their way closer and closer to existence. "I won't bother you. I'll leave you alone if you want. But... but please just... just stay."

Shock washed over her as she looked up at him, so small and scared.

Scared of _him_? !

He felt like a failure, a coward, and worst of all, a traitor... in two ways. He had betrayed his own heart in not telling her everything before she left. He had betrayed their friendship when he'd refused to even try to make things right between them when she'd come home. It didn't matter that she'd left him. He didn't even care anymore! And he could hardly believe it, but he was finally able to accept it.

"You... _sh-should_ hate me, Ron," she said. He stared at her, mesmerized, following her tears as they rolled off her jaw.  
_  
Fuck it all..._

He knelt in front of her, took her arms in his hands, and pulled her against his chest, lifting her onto her feet. Her eyes widened, perfectly round as she stared, open-mouthed, back at him. She sat, speechless, on the edge of his bed. He let go of her, and moved around to the side of the bed to untangle his blanket, a fleeting apologetic feeling directed towards her telepathically at the fact that he didn't keep things especially tidy around here.

And then he returned to her, handing her a pillow.

She was breathing so heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she studied him, questions spilling from her eyes.

His eyes darted furiously, unable to focus on anything, fear of what he'd find out if he looked directly into her eyes. Waiting, waiting for her to make the next move, to speak, to lie down, to do _something_!

She clutched his pillow, squeezing it to her chest, and quickly, giving herself no time to think about it, she lay down in his bed, her head at the wrong end, tucking the pillow under her head.

Stifling the urge to crumble to the floor at the sight before his eyes, Ron darted out of the room, unable to contain himself. He paced frantically through his living room, arms shaking as he tried to figure out what was happening. But he could assign no words to it, nerves taking control of every function. He had never felt like this before.

Maybe he was losing his mind...

He rushed back into his bedroom, erratically.

"Do you need anything?" he asked her, before he even looked down at her. That was how it had to be, words before sight, or he'd make a fool of himself.

As if he hadn't already...

But she was lying on her back, blanket draped over her, fingers pressed to her temples, a moan escaping with each exhale, her eyes clamped tightly shut. He knew this feeling, and he also knew how to help. Less than an hour ago he would have _never _imagined actually following through, giving her what he knew she needed. But oh, how things had changed...

_Doesn't matter now. You've already gone this far..._

He climbed into the bed, somehow able to send the message from brain to body to make it possible, and, lying on his stomach, he scooted so close to her that he was almost touching her.

"You feel like everything's spinning, and it's making you really sick," he said, voice low and vibrating.

She nodded as her eyebrows raised, eyes still closed, and she began to tremble, her bottom lip quivering. Could it be because of him? Did he have this power over her? Was it _possible_?

"Open your eyes," he breathed, and she obeyed.

He moved so she was looking up into his face, nothing else between them but a foot of air. It was too awkward not to touch her, but he had no idea whether she wanted him there, much less if she'd be alright with so much physical contact.

Again, he shut off the nagging part of his brain, the part that had made her cry so often and sent her further away from him when all he'd ever really wanted was to draw her as close as possible. Clouds were lifting, and he closed the distance separating their bodies, overlapping her left side with his.

"Look right here," he said, pointing with his index finger to a spot between his eyes, just over the bridge of his nose.

Uneven breathing between them, waves of pleasure and nervous tension mounting, she did as she was told.

And very slowly, her trembling lips turned up into a watery grin. And she laughed.

"What?" Ron whispered, lowering his finger from the spot he had pointed to on his own face.

"Th-that's easy," she said. "You've got a big freckle... right there."

Ron laughed giddily as she continued to smile, still staring between his eyes.

"It's helping," she whispered, eyes glued to his freckle.

"Thought it would," Ron whispered back. "It... it helps me to stare at one spot. But don't close your eyes. Makes it worse..." he added, explaining away his initiation of the most intimate moment between them... save one, so very long ago.

She nodded, silent tears seeping out of the corners of her eyes.

"Wh-why are you doing this?" she breathed, forehead creased.

"B-because... because I lied to you," he choked. "I _can _be your friend again. I can try."

Her body shook beneath him as she cried, still staring between his eyes. And his heart leapt into his throat, as if it could move any higher.

It became difficult to remain weightless above her, their bodies lightly touching, without support. So he allowed a trembling arm to move over her, pressing into the mattress on her right side. Propping himself up on his right elbow, he kept his weight above her, but now their upper bodies were completely overlapped.

He was melting and would soon be nothing but a puddle of mush hovering against gravity in the air above her.

Time ticked by, stretching in front of them as they did nothing but breathe, staring at each other between the inches of space that separated them.

And slowly, as she calmed down, as his ingenious remedy cured her of her suffering, her eyes shut lightly, and she drifted off to sleep.

He couldn't move.

But he _had _to.

She would wake up, and her senses would be back to normal. She'd know what she'd done, remember how he'd been there for her, but she'd hide her heart from him again, logically. She'd fear what she might have destroyed, though Ron knew, and always would, that she had done nothing of the sort... she had done quite the opposite.

Overcome with happiness at his foresight, the decision to allow her access to his flat any time by illogically excluding her from the spells cast to keep unwanted guests from gaining entry, he sighed, smiled, and extracted his body, like performing major surgery, from hers.

There was no way in hell he was leaving her alone, allowing her to creep away unnoticed in the morning and forget this ever happened.

He twisted his body around, head at the top of his bed now, and settled onto his back against his pillow. Her tiny body next to him, reassuring him that she was still real, he closed his eyes.

_Maybe you'll regret this..._

The little voice in the back of his mind wanted to be heard. But he smiled despite it.

It really didn't matter. He had _now_. This moment. And he wouldn't give it up for all the world.

* * *

_**A/N:** Whew! I hope you all liked it :) One annoying thing you may have noticed... stupid FF . net keeps glitching when I try to add a ? + ! at the end of a sentence, so I had to put a space between the punctuation... I sure did have a lot of those! hah _


	8. Fight or Flight

**Chapter 8: Fight or Flight**

_[Companion Track: Calla - This Better Go As Planned (_http : / www . youtube . com /watch?v=impxSqA5S2Q_) ] - remove spaces in link_

_

* * *

_

When Hermione opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a pair of large, freckled feet, inches from her nose. It took less time for her to know who they belonged to than it did for her brain to process all that had happened the night before, proving over again to her just how well she knew everything about him.

She sucked in a breath, recalling how she had fallen asleep gazing into his eyes. How long had he stayed there like that, sure she was safe and well before falling asleep himself?

She blinked rapidly, trying to return her breathing to normal as she realized that she hadn't moved yet, not enough for him to know if she was awake. He could be lying there right now, fully awake himself.

And then what? What could she possibly say? She groaned automatically, involuntarily, at the mere thought of how she had acted, the way she'd practically hexed him into admitting where he had been. Yes, the thought had crossed her mind, the idea of pulling out her wand and forcing him to tell her the truth.

She had _really _gone mental. This was it. She was a hopeless case.

She eased one hand out from under the warm blanket that was encasing her and brushed hair from her eyes, realizing as she ran her fingers through it just how horrible it must like. Embarrassed to the point of feeling a bit sick, she covered her face with her hand, closing her eyes.

But then his foot moved.

Her eyes popped open wide and she stared as he stretched his toes.

Butterflies leapt into action inside her chest as she watched.

She was _so _predictable... All he had to do was bloody _move _and she was reduced to _this_, whatever she could call this. Lunacy?

He twisted next to her, and his leg bumped against her bent knees. She heard him suck in a breath, the mattress moving with him. She was sure he was looking at her.  
_  
Save yourself the embarrassment, if it's even possible to leave with an ounce of dignity at this point..._

"I'm going, I'm going," she said, sliding out from under the blanket, hiding her face from him as she let her feet dangle off the side of the bed, hitting the soft carpet with a light thud. "I never do this. You know I never..." And even though her back was towards him, she felt him moving closer, crawling perhaps across the bed towards her.

"Never do what?" he asked, his voice deep and raspy...

Chills ran through her, imagining how it would be to hear him talk to her that way all the time... if things were different. Funny, how now that she had screwed up this badly, every sentence of hope had to end with 'if things were different.'

Sighing, she stood... and faced him. She was a Gryffindor after all. She had this one thing, the ability to turn herself to stone, creating a shield from all that could hurt her.

She paused to take in what she saw. He was lying there on his back, propped up on his elbows, eyes on her. She wanted to melt back onto his mattress next to him and never leave...

"Never get drunk and pass out at... at..." but the next words would not come. _At a friend's house? _She couldn't say that. There was no suitable label for him, and the only small comfort in this fact now was that she couldn't call him a stranger... or an enemy. Not anymore.

And what was it he had said to her?

_You hate me..._

_No. I don't._

"Don't worry about it," Ron mumbled, sitting up further in his bed, still facing her.

"I..." she began, watching him as he moved closer, closer, then stopped, leaving a barrier between them, a distance that could be considered safe. "I really am sorry..." she finished lamely, feeling like a fool again. How easy it was for him to do this to her... when she knew how little affect her own closeness had on...

But then it rushed back to her like a flood...

_I can be your friend again. I can try._

_Please stay.  
_  
"Did you mean it, everything you said?" she whispered.

He nodded slowly, and she sensed how nervous he was.

"I wasn't the one who was drunk, remember?" he reminded her, wincing almost imperceptibly at his own terrible excuse for a joke.

She sighed frustratedly. She had no idea what to do now. She felt her reserve building again, protecting her like it always did... but killing her at the same time. He hadn't asked her to leave yet. She was still standing here in the middle of his bedroom, probably looking like someone who had been in a fight the night before, and... and...

"Oh, God," she moaned, clutching her head. It was pounding, and she had somehow managed not to notice until just now.

She had _screamed _at him last night. Hysterically. Like a mental patient. It was beyond embarrassing. And she had to leave. Now. She was going to be sick...

But then, eyes widening, she remembered...

"Oh! My parents!" Hands dropping from her head, she turned on the spot, looking for a clock.

"What... what are you looking for?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he watched her from his position on the side of the bed, toes digging into the carpet.

"The time..." she said distractedly, horrified by her mistake. She was scheduled to meet her parents for breakfast...

Ron held his watch up to his sleepy eyes and blinked.

"Quarter past ten," he announced.

Her eyes widened further.

"I have to go. Now," she said quickly.

"Hang on!" Ron shouted as she headed towards the half-open bedroom door. He jumped off the bed and stood there in front of her, looking lost.

"Please, Ron, my parents are waiting for me. I was supposed to meet them at 10!"

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"We can't do this. Don't leave like this," he said desperately.

She opened her mouth to reply, but two pops resounded from the living room, and Ron lunged for the door, shutting it swiftly.

"Who's here? !" Hermione mouthed.

Ron shrugged and reached for his wand on top of his dresser.

"Probably Harry," he whispered, but Hermione took note of the way he held his wand so firmly his hand now as he faced the door. "Just to make sure," he added, nodding towards his wand.

* * *

"Oy, Ron!" came the voice of Ginny from just outside the bedroom door, much too close.

Tears welled in the corners of Hermione's eyes. She was beyond embarrassed, terrified of being discovered here and having to explain what had happened. Ron knew what she was feeling so distinctly, and he knew he was about to protect her...

Ron locked eyes with her and put a finger to his lips, telling her without words to remain quiet. She nodded and backed against the wall next to the door, knowing they wouldn't be able to see her if Ron managed to keep them out of his room.

He opened the door an inch and peered out into the hallway.

Ginny and Harry stood shoulder to shoulder, smiling at him. Ginny's smile turned into a wicked grin instantly at the sight of him, and she cocked her head to the side.

"Having a lie in?" she asked.

"It's only ten," said Ron. "What do you want?"

"Lovely greeting," Harry said sarcastically.

"We're here because we're going on holiday!" Ginny announced quickly, excitedly, before Ron could reply to Harry's sarcasm.

"Oh, yeah? When?" Ron asked, hoping to deflect all possible curiosities about his strange behaviour, unwilling to fully open the door and greet his guests.

"Thursday," Harry said. "Thought you might like to come along."

"Oh," Ron nodded. "Where to?"

"Italy!" Ginny exclaimed, but slowly, confusion mounted and Ron felt his heartbeat quicken. She was onto him.

Ginny raised her eyebrows as Ron continued to stand firmly behind the door... clearly hiding something.

"What's..." she started, but her eyes widened and she stopped short. "Have you got someone in there? !" she hissed.

Harry's eyes widened too as he looked from Ginny to Ron.

"No way," Harry said slowly, but he was obviously skeptical.

"I thought you said he was at yours until the middle of the night!" Ginny whispered to Harry.

"He was!"

"Calm down," Ron said, trying to slide out of his bedroom without opening the door all the way. He managed it, just barely, and held the door shut with one hand on the knob after he'd made his exit.

"Who is it?" Ginny mouthed, aghast.

"No one, quit being nosy," Ron said, but his ears were burning and he knew it wouldn't take much examination for Ginny to call his bluff.

"You're acting suspicious," she said slowly, crossing her arms over her chest. For some reason, she looked a bit hacked off.

"You know, I don't see how any of this has got anything to do with you in the first place," Ron said a bit defensively.

"You never do..." Ginny trailed off, rolling her eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron questioned, anger rising. He didn't like to be made fun of, especially when he didn't even get the joke...

"It's so easy for you to forget how _other people_ feel..." Ginny continued cryptically.

Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Harry, who had been silently thinking next to Ginny, gasped suddenly and his jaw dropped.

"It's Hermione," he said. Ginny whipped around to face Harry so quickly, her neck cracked.

"Where have you been for the last month? !" Ginny questioned, looking horrified at Harry's mistake. "It's obviously not _her_! He hates her."

"No, I don't," Ron said much too quickly, foot fully in his mouth.

_Oh great..._

Ginny gaped at him, Harry's jaw remained on the floor, and Ron's neck burned furiously.

"Okay, show's over," he said, swallowing hard. "Go on. Get out."

"Oh my God..." Ginny mouthed, clutching Harry's arm.

"You don't know anything," Ron said, trying to cover and back track... but he had much too far back to go... "Stop being ridiculous. I'll see you both _later_..."

"You know," Ginny said, her shocked look turning on a dime into a devious stare. "This worked out nicely. Now we've only got the one stop to make. See, we wanted to invite _Hermione_..." She drew out Hermione's name, teasing Ron with every syllable.

"Don't, Gin," Ron warned, panic rising as he clutched the door knob behind him for dear life.

"Hermione!" Ginny shouted, and Ron winced, his knuckles going white against the silver door knob. "Fancy a holiday? We leave on Thursday!"

It was Harry's turn to clutch Ginny's arm, shocked. But it was too easy to catch the hint of a grin on his face as he glanced at Ron... whose whole face was now burning.

"Out!" Ron roared. "Get. out!"

Ginny shook her head in a disappointed way, looking up at her brother.

"I hope you apologized before you shagged her," Ginny said seriously, narrowing her eyes, but she had to press her lips together to keep from laughing.

"Goddamn it, Ginny!" Ron shouted, letting go of the door knob now for the first time. "If you're still here in five bloody seconds I'm going to hex you!"

Ginny's eyes flashed down to the wand Ron still held in his hand.

"Okay," she said, backing up, taking Harry's hand. "I'm sorry..." but she sounded far from serious.

"We'll talk later?" Harry questioned, looking dazed as he watched Ron.

"Just... just go, please," Ron said, running a hand through his hair.

Harry nodded, and together, he and Ginny returned to the living room, though not before Ron caught a shared eyebrow raise between them. He leaned back against his door and waited for the sound of Harry and Ginny Disapparating before opening his bedroom door again...

"I'm so sorry," he exhaled as he reentered his bedroom. Hermione was standing, frozen, still against the wall, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Ron felt drained, exhausted, and extremely pissed off. Things had been going well. At least he had thought... he had _hoped_...

But now it just seemed ludicrous, absurd, like the ideas he had been toying with before had finally been revealed to him in their true form... ridiculous and pointless.

"Uh," Ron said when Hermione remained silent, not looking at him. "Your parents."

She nodded.

"Okay," Ron breathed, trying desperately to keep his emotions in check. He felt like he was losing everything all over again. If she walked out now, left him with nothing... He wasn't sure he had the strength to build it up again. Or if she would ever let him.

And this was his fault. He hadn't been able to protect her. And now how would either of them be able to face Harry or Ginny again without an explanation? !

"Ron," Hermione finally said, surprising him with the direct use of his name.

He nodded, speechless as he watched her turn to face him.

"I promise we'll talk. I want... to talk to you."

He nodded again, though he wasn't sure if he believed her. He wanted desperately to, looking back at her, sensing her urgency and anxiety. She _wanted _him to believe her...

"It's okay," he said. "Go."

They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment. Hermione broke contact just long enough to turn her back on him, ready to Apparate. But, frustratedly, she sighed and faced him again.

"I can't do it. You're distracting me," she sighed, pushing past him and leaving the bedroom.

For a fleeting moment, he felt that jolt of power, the one he had pondered the night before when she'd trembled, eyes closed, beneath him... like he held some secret key, something no one else possessed... the way to undo Hermione Granger.

He shivered, but before he could make his legs work again, he heard a familiar, gentle pop. And he knew she was gone.


	9. Best Laid Plans

**Chapter 9: Best Laid Plans**

_[Companion Track: The Twilight Sad - I Became a Prostitute (_http : / www . youtube . com /watch?v=sCEZOWhE6u0_) ] - remove spaces in link_

_

* * *

_

Ron paced his living room, back and forth, back and forth. It was nearly four in the afternoon. They hadn't settled on a time to talk. Was she coming back _today_?

...and why, anyway, was he really expecting her to return at all?

He passed his end table and froze, staring down at the ice cold coffee he had poured for her the night before.

His fire roared and he jumped half a foot in the air, eyes darting over to see what was going on...

A face emerged, and Ron was on the floor kneeling in front of his fire in half a second.

Seamus.

Disappointment washed over him, though it had been pretty mental for him to assume Hermione would floo...

"Hiya, Ron!" Seamus said brightly, head bouncing in the fire. "Chess tonight?"

"No, sorry," Ron said quickly, wishing Seamus away.

"Just because you can't lose?" Seamus asked, grinning. "I've got a few tricks..."

"Tonight's not good," Ron said before Seamus could get carried away. "Another day."

Seamus paused, almost as if he wanted to ask more, but then it passed.

"Okay, then. Back to... whatever you were getting up to," Seamus concluded, waggling his eyebrows. Ron rolled his eyes as Seamus vanished from the fireplace.

Was Ron really going to pace his living room all day, all _night_, waiting for her? He had to get out of his flat, find something to do... but not the pub. He was really starting to lose interest. Somehow, Hermione's presence had managed to be the thing he looked forward to most about going there... even though they never spoke. And now, assuming that she wouldn't be there tonight, the idea of going to the pub held little that he desired.

Harry's. Yes.

He would go to Harry's.

"Bad idea," he said aloud, shaking his head.

But he could not fully convince himself not to go. He was going to go batty cooped up in his flat all by himself. Harry wouldn't force him to talk if he didn't want to. And honestly, maybe he _did _want to...

"Bad idea," he sighed again, just as he withdrew his wand from his back pocket, turned on the spot, and vanished.

_

* * *

_

Hermione had been home for nearly four hours. Why couldn't she just go see him?

She had fled, plain and simple. Terrified perhaps of making another shattering mistake, she had left him. The truth was, she knew what she was moments from saying, closer than she had ever been... until Harry and Ginny had arrived and spoiled everything.

Or had _saved _her.

This was the conclusion she had latched onto, and it was what had sent her off to see her parents when she had just been considering ditching them in favour of the courage that she discovered remaining after his acknowledgment that he had meant every word he'd said to her the night before.

She would have told him everything. That she loved him. That she had loved him years ago. And that she was so in love with him now, that all she ever thought about, cried about, cared about... was him.

Sick to her stomach at the thought of what could have transpired if she hadn't been stopped abruptly by the arrival of their friends, she leaned against her dresser and checked her reflection in the mirror again for what had to have been the hundredth time. But her cheeks were still too red, eyes still too watery. She had to be in control, to have it all planned out and know what she was going to say ahead of time if she had any intention of facing him again today. Otherwise, as she had learned from dreadful experience, she would surely make a fool of herself...

What was she even planning on saying to him? Honestly, she hoped that he'd be the one to do the talking, though she had been the one to promise this conversation into existence in the first place. What did he expect from her? Did he want to talk about their friendship, to decide their boundaries? They should have some, she concluded, ones that she could understand and follow, because if they didn't, she wasn't sure how to trust herself.

Over and over again she pondered the likelihood of Ron's feelings coming close to her own, of being anything that remotely resembled what she wanted most. But she kept coming back to what she'd asked him, for nothing to change after their one night together a year ago.

And he had tried to keep up the friendship.

She had assumed, and she was still fairly certain, that this meant he really didn't want to be with her. Honestly, when she'd said those words to him, asked him to stay the same, she had done it out of fear of losing him altogether, not because she didn't want to be with him.

He knew that. She _knew _he had to. She was _so _obvious about how she felt. Wasn't she? Lavender Brown, classic example. He was daft that year, that was true, immature as well... but he wasn't totally stupid. And then he had to have seen the way she'd looked at him, a way she'd never looked at anyone else, in the middle of the night, in the tent hunting Horcruxes.

And then, there it was, that logical, 'oh-so-accurate' conclusion that she had come to countless times, every time she went over it again, looking for clues...

If all that time she had such doubts that he loved her... then he must not have loved her at all.

But she _knew _this. This wasn't new information. She had left because of it. She had given up her own heart for _his _sake, though she now knew the consequence of her mistake. She had gone away to try and forget, so when she came back again, she might be able to face him without her heart fluttering madly, her brain going limp and useless. It hadn't worked, but she had been sure it was the only thing she could do to _try_...

But now, when she looked into his eyes, when he smiled at her, when he spoke in that comforting voice just for her...

"Stop," she sighed as a large tear dripped from the corner of her eye and rolled casually down her cheek.

This wasn't what she was supposed to be doing today. She was planning her speech, what she'd say so they could hope to reconcile their _friendship_. Nothing more. He hadn't mentioned _anything _about _more_...

_Friends. We can be friends._  
_  
Back to normal. How things were before.  
_  
Assumptions. And not even very convincing ones. That was all she had been reviewing these past few hours.

Maybe she would never be _ready _to talk, to keep her promise.

Well, then it was now or never.

As it had really always been.

She weighed her options.

And this time, _finally_, now won.

_

* * *

_

"Harry?" Ron called tentatively as he looked around Harry's living room.

"Here!" Harry shouted from somewhere down the hall. "Coming!"

Seconds later, Harry emerged, doing a very bad job of hiding the fact that something extremely awkward had taken place hours previous...

Ron knew he looked beat up, his eyes darker than usual. He felt like he had been through a war last night, a battle with himself... and with her. He had no idea who or _what _had won, really. And he was unable to even think about it, too dizzy and overwhelmed to try.

"What's up?" Harry asked, but Ron rolled his eyes.

"You know what's up, wanker," Ron said, dropping into one of Harry's arm chairs.

"No need to get cheeky!" Harry said, still trying to hang onto his lighthearted tone. But Ron didn't even crack a smile. "Okay," Harry said, nodding, getting serious, sitting on the couch opposite Ron. "Do you want to talk... or something?" Harry shifted a bit awkwardly on the couch, waiting for Ron's reply...

"Is it terrible for me to just... forget she ever left?" Ron asked suddenly. Might as well jump right into the deep end...

And then, Ron remembered that Harry didn't know the whole story, a story Ron wasn't ever planning on telling, and because of this, Harry's answer could not be very easily applied to Ron's situation. This was why everything had become so difficult. The only person he could talk to about the _secret _was the person with whom he had shared it. And up until now, that had been written off as an impossibility.

Still recovering from the shock of Ron's direct question, Harry shook his head and began at the only place it seemed he knew how...

"So," he began slowly, trying to contain his shock, "it _was _Hermione at your flat?"

Ron remained motionless, speechless, staring forward at Harry's coffee table.

"Blimey," Harry sighed. "I mean, I _knew _it. But... what happened? Last thing I knew you were telling her you'd never be her friend again, and then she's spending the night..."

"Nothing makes any sense," Ron mumbled. "She tells me she just wants to be friends, and then when I try, she runs away..."

"Wait," Harry started, blinking. "She said _what _about just being friends?" Confused, he stared back at Ron, but Ron refused to meet Harry's eyes.

"She never wanted anything to change between us," Ron said slowly, darting around the one bit he wasn't going to ever say.

"You mean _before _she left for Australia?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. "Are you sure you understood?"

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, lifting his eyes to Harry's at last. "Of course I did."

"But..." Harry shook his head, completely confused. "But she's fancied you since... fourth year, maybe!"

Ron's eyes widened.

"Shut up, Harry, you're making it worse..."

"No, really," Harry continued, sitting up on the edge of his couch. "You had to have misunderstood what she meant-"

"I didn't," Ron said quickly.

Harry stared back at Ron, still very skeptical.

"Have you talked to her about this, asked her to clarify-"

"I didn't misunderstand, Harry!" Ron shouted.

"How do you know?" Harry asked.

"I just do!"

Ron looked down at his hands stretched along his thighs as he leaned further back into the arm chair. Harry studied him, biting his tongue against what Ron knew he wanted to say...

Harry craved answers, and Ron would never give them to him.

So they were stuck. That was it.  
_  
Lot of good this did me...  
_  
"Hang on, but she stayed at your flat last n-"

"It's not what you think," Ron interrupted.

Again, that long awkward pause during which Harry visibly considered if he should say anything else, _ask _anything else...

But he didn't get the chance.

A Ministry owl flew in through the open kitchen window, soared into the living room, and landed roughly on the coffee table.

Harry reached out to take the parchment and read it quickly, silently, before sighing and looking up at Ron.

"Hope you didn't have any plans tonight," he said, handing Ron the letter.

They were being asked on a mission. Leaving in two hours. Gone for three days.

"Better get packing," Harry said, standing from the couch. Ron grunted his response and stood as well, tossing the parchment back onto the coffee table.

"Meet you at the office," Ron said sadly, Disapparating before Harry had the chance to say another word.

_

* * *

_

Hermione Apparated outside the front door of Ron's flat, not wanting to intrude, wishing she had had some vague common sense about such things the night before...

Raising a shaky fist, she knocked on his door and waited, heart pounding in her ears.

It was deathly quite from the other side of the door, no sign that he was approaching.

How long was it that you were supposed to wait between a first attempt and a second knock?

She tapped her feet nervously, counting the seconds in her head as they ticked by.

She knocked again, louder this time, more insistent.

But there was nothing.

Feverishly rationalizing her need to Apparate _inside _his flat now - he could be in danger! - she twirled gracefully, and disappeared, reappearing in the middle of his living room almost exactly where she had landed the night before.

"Ron?" she called out, voice unsteady. She cursed under her breath at the sound of it. So weak... She cleared her throat to try again. "Ron, are you home?"

She moved cautiously through his flat when he didn't respond, searching for him. But he wasn't there. He had gone out somewhere.

And it crushed her spirit.

She had been so ready to face him, able to just go for it without thinking... up until this moment. Momentum totally stomped out, she whimpered, rubbed her moist eyes, and vanished again, leaving his flat as quiet and empty as she had found it.

_

* * *

_

Ron appeared in his bedroom and froze, convinced he had just heard someone Apparate inside his flat.

"Hello?" he called out, removing his wand from his jeans and aiming it first around the corner into the living room. But no one was there.

Sure he was losing his mind now, he pocketed his wand again, returned to his bedroom, and packed methodically for his trip.

_

* * *

_

Hermione sat at her kitchen table, sipping slowly on a cup of lukewarm tea. Her mind was far from here, from this moment, mug held limply in her hands.

He didn't want to talk to her. She was sure of it. He had changed his mind.

She had tried all day to find him. Harry's flat, the pub, even Ginny's in the end, fearing what might transpire between them, confrontation regarding their terribly awkward morning, but not even caring in the end. Because she needed to do this, to come face to face with him, apologize again for leaving, ask him to forgive and forget her mistakes, if he could, no matter how long it took him. She would gladly wait a lifetime.

But now, at nearly nine at night, she was sure he was avoiding her.

_

* * *

_

Ron kicked a pebble with the toe of his boot. It clattered down the side of the hill to their left as Harry adjusted his glasses.

"Where's Hermione when you need her?" Harry said, removing his glasses altogether and pointing his wand at them. "Oculus Reparo," he said, and the glasses glowed for a moment at the center joint. Harry shrugged. "It'll have to do."

Ron said nothing, just scuffed his feet as they rounded a corner, leaning against the rubble to their right. They would soon reach the top, where they were headed, and their path continued to narrow as they wound around the hill. To their left, the hill sloped down steeply, becoming more and more dangerous as they continued onward, upward.

But during their silent, dark walk up the hill, Ron had concluded something...

Hermione didn't really want to talk to him. She had changed her mind. Or maybe she'd never wanted to talk in the first place...

But he remembered the moment of fear he had sensed lingering behind her mask of resolve. And he wondered if she had simply been too embarrassed to face him once she was fully back to her senses...

The sky was pitch black above Ron and Harry, stars twinkling through it, but though Ron knew he should keep his mind on his work, he couldn't drag his heart away from Hermione...

Harry glanced sideways at Ron as if he wanted to say something but couldn't quite make himself do it. He'd been doing that a lot today.

"What, Harry?" Ron asked, tired of the anticipation.

"I didn't have time to find Hermione and say goodbye," Harry admitted, looking a bit guilty. "I tried, went to her flat, but she wasn't there and I was running late as it was..."

"Did you tell Ginny, at least?" Ron asked, grumpy. Now what if she thought he was avoiding _her_?

"Yeah, and she said she'd talk to Hermione."

Ron grimaced, imaging how awkward that was going to be for her.

He wished more than anything that the had found her himself. He had debated it, going over to tell her goodbye, but he had decided that if he _did _find her and they talked, came to the conclusion that he was assuming would be arrived at after the conversation they'd have to have, he would have a harder time concentrating, a harder time not being a sulky sod during his mission, than he would if he saved the disappointment for later.

Disappointment.

But he had said he could _try _to be her friend. Why was it that in his mind, he had leapt to the idea that he would drop everything, all of his built up immunity towards her and his own feelings, if she wanted to be with him as more than friends?

He scoffed at himself, as if she could suddenly go from stranger to... well, girlfriend would never be the right word to describe what he had hoped for with her.

_Had! HAD!_

He needed to constantly remind himself that he _no longer felt this way_! It was in his past now, or it was meant to be. It had been a month, only a month, since he had looked into her eyes and told her that he'd never forgive her. And now he was internally brooding about the fact that his eternal love for her might never be reciprocated? !

Why the hell was this so complicated? !

And as he fell once more into rhythmic step behind Harry, one foot in front of the other his only task, he located the truth, and, pushing aside all the lies he had been telling himself, accepted it for what it was...

She had left him for a year. A year! And if he was going to forget, have any hope of making things work between them, _she _had to be the one...

He shook his head furiously.  
_  
You're barking! She. doesn't. want. you. like. that! You've just been admitting to that-_

"Ron, it's just here!" Harry hissed, clambering up the steep slope a few feet in front of them.

It wasn't easy, but Ron extracted Hermione from his thoughts, and followed Harry up the slope, wand ready in his hand...

_

* * *

_

A rapid knock on Hermione's door caused her to jump in her chair, spilling a bit of cold tea on her shirt sleeve. She nearly knocked her chair off balance in her haste to answer whoever it was, her heart pounding furiously as she considered that it could be _him_...

But as she swung open the door, holding her breath, she was disappointed to find one of the last people she wanted to see right now...

Ginny.

"Hi," Ginny said. "Can I come in?"

Hermione stepped back to allow Ginny to enter, but she said nothing, stomach sinking at the thought of discussing what had happened earlier that morning... what Ginny had stumbled into at Ron's flat...

"Before you get defensive," Ginny began, "I'm not here to talk about _that_."

Relief filled Hermione, though she held onto an ounce of trepidation for now just in case.

"I just wanted you to know that Ron and Harry have gone on a mission. They got called out and they'll be gone until Tuesday."

Hermione's stomach hit the floor. Three days. She had to wait three days to see him again. And she knew that she would never be able to hold on that long. Her courage was already dying...

"Oh," she said softly.

"Harry wanted to tell you before he left, but he was in a rush. He and Ron got called out so unexpectedly. It's what we get for being friends with the best young Aurors at the Ministry..." Ginny rolled her eyes, trying to be playful, but all Hermione wanted was silence... and maybe a cold shower.

"Thanks for letting me know," Hermione said quietly, though she felt a tinge of hurt at the fact that Ron hadn't been able to tell her himself.  
_  
So he _is_ avoiding me._

"Look," Ginny continued, trying to sound cheerful. "Why don't you come out to the pub with us-"

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. That was the last thing she wanted. The absolute last. "I've had enough of the pub, thanks."

"Oh, alright," Ginny said, nodding. "Well, what about a film? I loved that Muggle cinema you took me to last week..."

"I'm really sorry, Ginny," Hermione began, feeling weak and drained, "but I think I'm just going to go to bed."

Ginny studied her, clearly planning out her next words.

"Do you want to talk about... anything?"

"No," Hermione sighed. She couldn't think of much she wouldn't _rather _do.

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you this morning," Ginny said gently. "And if you ever decide you _do _want to talk..."

"It's okay," Hermione said. "Thank you."

And with one last nod, Ginny turned and left Hermione alone again.  
_  
Three more days._

She had waited this long.

Now all she had to do was to figure out how to keep holding on...

* * *

_**A/N:** So I'm going out of town until Monday. I'll try to update again on Tuesday! Have a great weekend, everybody! It's funny because this was totally unintentional, but Tuesday is exactly how long Ron will be gone for, so it works out perfectly!  
_


	10. Now or Never

**Chapter 10: Now or Never**

_[Companion Track: School of Seven Bells - Half Asleep (_http : / www . youtube . com /watch?v=1An2pjS4mKE_) ] - remove spaces in link_

* * *

**June 7, 1999**

Ron shifted uncomfortably in a waiting room chair in St. Mungo's, blood dripping down the right side of his face. It didn't hurt so much now, though he wasn't sure if it was because the injury really was insignificant or if he had simply built up a tolerance over the years.

"Ron," Harry called suddenly, stepping around the corner with a young healer and her assistant... Ginny.

Ron stood, hoisted his rucksack onto his shoulder, and walked towards them with a sigh.

"You okay, Ron?" Ginny asked, wincing as she checked out his injuries briefly.

"Yeah," Ron said. "Let's go..." and he followed them through a white door, down a long hallway...

_

* * *

_

**June 8, 1999**  
_  
_Hermione drummed her fingers nervously on her desktop. What if Ron showed up today? What would she say?

Exhausted by the mere thought of him, she furiously opened a file folder on her desk at random, scattering papers in all directions. Shuffling them back into semi-organization, she stared down at the top one, scanning the words with lightning speed in an attempt to grasp the information and distract herself within it.

"Hermione," Ginny called out of nowhere, startling Hermione and causing her to scatter her papers once more.

She turned around in her chair to face Ginny who now stood in the doorway, arching an eyebrow.

"A bit jumpy today?" she asked.

"What's up, Ginny?" Hermione asked immediately, not acknowledging Ginny's joke.

"I ran into Harry on the way in this morning," Ginny said. "He wanted me to see if you'd like to join us for lunch."

Hermione stared up at Ginny, shocked.

"Don't worry, Ron won't be there," Ginny added, but Hermione shook her head.

"It's just that... I didn't know they were back. No one said..."

"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed, a bit startled, but understanding as she nodded... "You know, I wondered if they'd talked to you. I saw them in St. Mungo's last night."

Hermione gasped and her face paled.

"Harry's fine," Ginny said before Hermione could ask, but Hermione didn't feel an ounce more relieved...

"What... what h-happened?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Clearly realizing what she had led Hermione to believe, Ginny strode quickly towards her and sat in a chair opposite her.

"He's okay!" Ginny shouted. "Ron's fine. They had him there late and he's home sleeping now I reckon, but it was nothing serious. A few cuts, a ghastly looking one on his face, but they set him right. He'll be just fine."

Hermione's eyes had filled with tears, wide and burning as Ginny had told her of Ron's injuries. She hated herself for not being there, and she saw it now as all her own fault. If she hadn't been so stupid, so selfish to put her own ridiculous feelings before their friendship...

"T-tell Harry I'll be there... for lunch," Hermione said slowly, unable to discuss Ron further with Ginny. She wanted Ginny to leave now, truthfully. "In the cafeteria? What time?"

Ginny watched her for a moment, concerned.

"Yes, in the cafeteria. 12:30?" Hermione nodded her agreement. "Do you want to tal-"

"No. I'll see you at 12:30," Hermione said, trying to sound as level and calm as possible.

Ginny paused for another moment before sadly standing and heading for the door, but just as she was about to turn out into the hallway...

"Ginny?"

Ginny turned to address Hermione again, nodding.

"He's... r-really okay?" Hermione asked in a tiny voice, weak and and and almost frightened.

"Yes," Ginny said reassuringly, giving Hermione a small smile. "Don't worry."

And then she turned, leaving Hermione with her thoughts.

_

* * *

_

Ron drank his coffee slowly, far too aware of the fact that _her _lips had once been exactly where his were now. He could find her tonight if he wanted, nothing stopping him. But still he sat here, thinking, unable to put his thoughts into words...

A knock on the door, and he knew it was Harry, had been expecting him for a while.

"Come in!" Ron shouted, leaning further back in his arm chair.

Ron heard Harry disabling the charms Ron had put up against unwanted intruders. Then, noisily, Harry entered the flat and slipped off his shoes, halfway out of his cloak before he reached the sofa. He sank onto it and ruffled his own messy hair, glancing over at Ron.  
_  
_"So, have you decided?' Harry asked, making himself at home as he stretched out his legs along the rug in front of the couch, flexing his toes.

"'Bout what?" Ron asked, sipping his coffee again.

"Thursday. Italy," Harry said, leaning his head against the back of Ron's couch.

Ron paused for a long moment, considering Harry's question. It wasn't that he didn't want to go, but the idea of being on holiday, possibly with Hermione, gave him reason to be cautious.

"Did Ginny talk to Hermione about it again?" Ron asked.

Harry smirked. Ron blushed, knowing exactly what Harry was thinking of and kicking himself for his own unfortunate choice of words. Ron hadn't been able to lie about Hermione's presence in his flat that morning, though he was beginning to wish he had...

"Yeah, we talked to her... _again_... at lunch today," Harry said, grinning.

"What did she say?" Ron asked, trying to avoid looking at Harry altogether, ignoring the way his ears and neck were now burning.

"Strange thing," Harry began, still smirking, "she asked the same thing about you."

"And what did you tell her?" Ron asked quickly, hoping he wasn't sounding as mental as he was starting to feel.

"That you hadn't made up your mind yet."

"So..." Ron paused to consider how his fingers were now trembling against his coffee mug as he thought of lying on a beach with her, no responsibilities... He cleared his throat... "Do you think she won't go... if I do?"

"Oh no," Harry said dramatically, shaking his head. "You've got it backwards..."

Ron stared down into his coffee mug, sure Harry was winding him up.

"Funny," he said, but Harry looked over at Ron more seriously now.

"She wants you to go. I'm not being funny."

"How do you know?" Ron asked, looking up now, skeptical but trembling with the anticipation of Harry's answer.

"Can't you just trust me for once?" Harry asked.

"So... she didn't _say_-"

"Are you going or not?" Harry interrupted, still a bit amused but beginning to lose patience.

"I..." Ron's image of a sunset on the beach with Hermione flashed through his head again...

_Mental..._

"Tell her I'm going... but if she says she won't go after that, tell her I'm not _really _going... and you were just teasing."

Ron fidgeted in his chair, swirling his coffee around in the bottom of his mug, waiting for Harry's response.

Harry blinked at Ron incredulously.

"You must be joking."

"Come on, Harry," Ron pleaded, catching Harry's eyes and holding on.

He desperately hoped that Harry would just leave him alone, forget all the comments that were surely running through his head, things he could say about this stupid game Ron and Hermione were still playing. It wasn't fair for Harry not to understand, to have to put up with them, but Ron fully planned to end it if she didn't do it first. And Harry would just have to deal with it... for a bit longer. Just a bit...

"Fine," Harry conceded, sighing and standing, slipping his shoes back on. "But this is the last time I play the messenger..."

"Sure," Ron said with a small grin. Harry rolled his eyes as he pulled on his cloak.

"See you at work," Harry said with a yawn as he opened the door. He stepped out, closed the door slowly behind him, and left Ron in silence.

Was it possible that she really wanted to go to Italy... with _him_?

It almost seemed just unlikely enough to be true. And that was enough for him for now...

_

* * *

_

Hermione shifted against her mattress, trying to get comfortable. The past three days stretched behind her like a lifetime, and she felt that everything she had once thought possible, perhaps considered in her daring move to Apparate into his flat in search of him, only to find him missing, was now as distant as a passing dream, forgotten and hidden within her subconscious, though it taunted her with the idea of a possibility.

If he wanted to see her, he could have told her he was home.

The idea of avoidance still played like a broken record, and she wasn't convinced one way or the other, simply re-listening to the same tune on repeat, hoping to learn something new with each listen. But it was no use. And she had two options - she could trouble herself as she had been with the unknown, or she could let go.

Wiping her moist eyes again, she chose freedom, hoping more than she ever had about anything that she was doing the right thing... that he would be happy with her choice.

She would see him soon, if he came to Italy. She would go if he said he was going first. And this was going to be her opportunity to show him what she could do, that she had the ability to do what she honestly knew she really didn't... to be his friend. Nothing more. And to slowly return to how things once were... whatever that meant.

_

* * *

_

**June 9, 1999**

"We've got two rooms in the hotel. Ginny said she'd share with you," Harry was saying, but Hermione was too busy trying to piece together a mystery to really hear him.

"You keep saying 'we'..." she began, and by the look on Harry's face, she knew she wouldn't have to say much more for him to know where she was going with this. "Did you happen to-"

"-talk to Ron?" Harry finished for her, repressing his grin. "Look, he said he's going. So let me know what you want to do."

She breathed through her nose very slowly. This was it.

"Okay," she said before she could stop herself. "I'll go."

"He was afraid you'd say no after I told you he was going," Harry blurted.

"And what did you tell him?" Hermione asked, feeling her cheeks flush as she stared back at Harry, her pulse quickening.

"Deliver your own messages," Harry said as he stood from the spare chair in Hermione's office. "We're leaving after lunch tomorrow. Meet me in our office upstairs."

Hermione swallowed, attempted to clear the lump in her throat at the idea of Apparating to Italy with Ron, standing in the middle of his office...

"Ron's meeting Ginny at St. Mungo's," Harry said, giving Hermione the feeling that he could read her mind.

Relieved but trembling, she nodded. Harry left her office so slowly she felt like she might explode. She had to go home, pack, prepare... think. For the next four days, she'd be stranded in Italy with Ron... Harry and Ginny would be there, sure, but they were a couple and would most likely spend a lot of time alone... leaving her with Ron.

Calm down...

This was it. She had her chance laid right out in front of her, not that this was the first time. But it was so clear to her now, a perfect opportunity to prove to him...

Yes. It had become her new goal and focus to prove that she was as strong as she had wished all year long that she was, had tried to force herself to be. She had left him to extract her one-sided feelings from her mind and heart, and she had returned without this ability, realizing that she did not posses it. Now all she had to do was to lie to him, to prove that she _did_. And if she could do that, then perhaps she could hope to have what she'd wanted from the start... a second chance.

* * *

He turned in his half sleep, addiction flowing through his veins, the concept of her. Tomorrow. A lightning strike through his open window.

A velvet black veil over what was to come, mysterious intrigue and daunting tasks of revelation...

He was sucked into the vortex, spiraling who knew where. He turned again, directed his own path, cutting a course through the sky in his dreams as he approached the dawn.

Broken fragments of past mistakes combined to reveal an ugly semi-formed figure, dancing in shadow, just out of reach or sight completely.

Together, the fragments looked familiar, a future he had glimpsed once long ago. Though broken and scattered, he saw them no longer as obstacles, but as a collection.

A future. Or a past he might have already had if things had been different... he was not sure.

Tomorrow.

* * *

Her tears kept her awake, though they were silent and soft, releasing what she was ready to leave behind.

_He doesn't hate you. Not anymore._

As she drifted, eyes closing gently, something warm and welcoming enveloped her. A simple thought.

_Perhaps he never really did._

* * *

**June 10, 1999  
**  
"Harry..." Hermione said timidly, stepping into the office he shared with Ron.

It was intoxicating, how much she could tell Ron had been here recently, his smell permeating the very atmosphere around her. She felt weak and distracted, trying to rise above the way she melted at the very sense of him...

"Hi," Harry said brightly, smiling at her. "Ready?" he said, holding out a hand for her to take.

She gripped her duffel bag tightly, imagining the way the sun would glint off the gently swaying sea, her feet sinking into warm sand as she stood breathing in the salty air of Catanzaro.

_Now or never..._

She took Harry's hand and closed her eyes, ready.

* * *

_**A/N:** I'm back from holiday and totally ready to kick this story up another notch! Things are getting exciting on the writing end :) I hope I don't have too many typos in this chapter. I didn't completely proof read it. Time for bed! I hope everyone enjoys it!_


	11. Maybe

**Chapter 11: Maybe**

_[Companion Track: Violens - Space Around the Feel Station (_http : / www . nme . com /blog ?blog=122&title=violens_acid_reign_washed_out_remix_free&more=1&c=1&tb=1&pb=1)_]_

* * *

Ron tapped his feet against the marble floor of the hotel lobby. This place was much too expensive, he was sure. He had never stayed anywhere this extravagant. He inwardly cringed as he thought of how he'd manage to pay Harry back for his portion. He'd have to pick up more hours at the joke shop when they returned to London...

Ginny literally skipped towards Ron from where she had just been standing at a long, ivory counter. She handed Ron a key and grinned.

"To your room... with Harry," she explained brightly. "Isn't this brilliant?"

"Maybe a little _too _brilliant," Ron said warily as he continued to look around the giant lobby, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, candles glowing yellow off the golden pillars on either side of the entryway.

"You know Harry doesn't expect us to pay him back," Ginny began. "He chose this place himself."

"Rich git," Ron chuckled, shaking his head. "And he knows he can't get away with charity like this..."

"He wants us to have a good time... all of us," Ginny said with a smirk that Ron chose to ignore.

"So, where are they, Harry and Hermione?" Ron asked casually, slipping his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

The truth was, he was terrified of seeing her. He was trying to imagine it, to prepare himself for the moment when she'd arrive and walk towards him, so that he might hope to retain the ability to speak coherently...

"They're meeting us on the beach," Ginny said. "Come on, let's go up to our rooms and change."

"Change?" Ron asked dumbly as he followed Ginny towards the huge marble staircase against the back wall.

"Bathing suits," Ginny said, and Ron heard her grin through her words though he couldn't see her as he followed her up the stairs.

_Bathing suits..  
_  
A distorted image of Hermione in a bathing suit flashed through his mind...

That could _not _be the way he had to see her first. It just couldn't! How was he expected to behave in a situation like that?

They had reached the eighth floor suddenly and unexpectedly, Ron's thoughts on Hermione and his predicament. He hardly even remembered climbing into the lift behind Ginny on the second floor...

"Your room's just down there," Ginny said, pointing down a long hallway after briefly studying a bronze card on the wall with arrows for different groups of room numbers.

"And where's yours?" Ron asked.

Ginny slowly started down Ron's hallway, following the arrows.

"Ah ha!" she exclaimed as she pointed down a side hallway to the right. "This way. Well, I'll meet you in the lobby," and she bounced off down the side hallway, leaving Ron to find his own room further down the main hall.

He located his room on the left side of the hall and managed, somehow, to open the lock with nervous hands. The room was huge, cream colored walls and caramel woven blankets made up neatly towards chocolate headboards. It was like he had stepped inside what he imagined a snobby, stuffy famous family's house would look like, or one that hoped to give off the impression of wealth. But this was far more inviting, comforting.

He dropped his bag in front of one of the over-sized beds, pressing down to feel the way the mattress gave... so soft, like a cotton candy cloud.

"Damn, Harry," he said to himself as he turned to look at his own reflection in the full length bronze framed mirror on the back of the bathroom door.

Sucking up his pride, he took a deep breath, and pulled his shirt off over his head. He cringed at his own pale skin. Well, this was all he had. Might as well make the most of it...  
_

* * *

_

Hermione had stayed in a lot of fancy places, but this one seemed to take the cake. Everything was decorated beyond necessity or even beauty. It was like a beautiful castle on the sea, warm and welcoming.

She unlocked the door to her shared hotel room and entered slowly.

"Ginny?" she called out.

Ginny bounded into view from the bathroom, now clad in a small black bikini. Hermione raised her eyebrows as she closed the door behind her.

"You're wearing that?"

"Why not?" Ginny shrugged, grinning. "Harry'll like it. And it's hotter than Merlin's armpits outside."

Hermione chuckled at Ginny's crudeness before returning her attention to the extravagant room she was now standing in.

"This is gorgeous," Hermione said slowly, taking it all in.

"I know," Ginny agreed giddily. "Harry really outdid himself."

Hermione nodded.

"Get dressed!" Ginny said quickly. "Don't want Harry and Ron to beat us down to the beach."

Hermione dropped her bag on top of one of the fluffy beds and opened it slowly, rummaging around for her bathing suit. But before she could even get her hands on it, she was hit in the face by a tiny flying piece of silky material. She caught it just in time and held it away from her body, wrinkling her nose.

"I thought you might have packed a bit too warmly," Ginny shrugged, looking devious.

"Ginny, this isn't even going to cover my bum," Hermione said in a high pitched voice, horrified.

"Oh yes it will," Ginny said, lifting the top half of the bikini from her bag and approaching Hermione. "It fits me, so it will definitely fit you. You're smaller than I am."

The top was basically two small caramel colored triangles with a tie for the neck and another for the back. The bottoms were similar in size, thin strips of elastic running along the sides and holding the front and back together.

"There's no way..."

"Just try it on!" Ginny said excitedly. "You'll look incredible in that."

"Ginny! I might as well not be wearing anything if I go down there in this!"

"Oh, there's a beach here for that too if you like..." Ginny said, wiggling her eyebrows up and down.

"Ginny!"

Hermione felt her cheeks burning so strongly that she was sure they'd catch fire if she didn't walk away.

"Just try it on," Ginny said, finally turning away from Hermione and collecting her towel, slipping her feet into her sandals.

Realizing that she was going to have a difficult time convincing Ginny to drop it, Hermione silently agreed to at least put it on, just to prove that she wasn't fit to wear something this ridiculous. She disappeared into the bathroom and began undressing, shivering as she imagined how naked she would feel in front of Ron like this...

Why was everything about him? Would she not be embarrassed in public in general in a bikini this tiny? Sure, she would. But it just felt so much different...

"You ready?" Ginny called from the other side of the door.  
_  
Now or never...  
_  
She had to stop thinking that...

She ripped open the door, cringing as she waited for Ginny's reaction.

"Perfect!" Ginny shouted as she took in Hermione's appearance. "Let's go!"

"This is mental..." Hermione shook her head, looking down at her bare stomach. "I look like a skeleton."

"You are _not _too thin," Ginny corrected, shaking her head. "And anyway, anyone next to Ron looks healthy..."

At the very mention of Ron's name, Hermione blushed and Ginny caught it.

"Don't worry about him," she said, shooing the thought of him away with a wave of her hand. "We're on holiday, here to have a good time. So enjoy yourself. Do something a bit mental, you know?"

Hermione actually agreed. It was bizarre, understanding what Ginny meant, how letting go and giving in was what she had really wanted out of this trip from the start. Maybe this was the first step in her own self confidence, in being able to be who she wanted to be, or who she hoped to prove that she could be.

"I want you to know I don't like it," Hermione said warily, "but... alright. Let's go."

Thrilled with Hermione's lack of a good argument, Ginny took her by the arm and ushered her towards the door. Hermione grabbed her towel, slipped her feet into her sandals, and pulled a lose t-shirt on over her head as Ginny threw open the door, inhaling deeply.

"Here we come, Italy!" Ginny announced proudly. Hermione giggled as they linked arms and headed down the hall towards the lifts.

Maybe this really _was _going to be brilliant after all...

_

* * *

_

The white sand sloped down from the back of the hotel towards the water. The sun was out, sky a beautiful blue, and the shore was scattered with holiday makers of every sort. Families with their children in tow, couples on honeymoon perhaps...

Ron took in the sight before him from the bottom step out the back of the hotel, waiting as Harry descended the stairs behind him. Ron slipped a pair of dark sunglasses on over his eyes. He had decided it was easier this way, hiding his eyes from her. He just had to control the rest of his face and he'd be fine.

He scanned the sand ahead for Hermione, but spotted his sister's glowing auburn hair first. She was laying out her towel, the wind whipping it as she extended it to place it on the sloping sand, facing the sea.

"Gin!" Harry called as he passed Ron and headed in her direction. "Coming?" Harry asked, looking back over his shoulder at Ron.

But Ron had frozen solid. Hermione was lying on the beach a bit to the right, stretched out on a bright red towel, wearing...  
_  
Oh. my. God. What the bloody hell is she wearing? !_

He couldn't make it out perfectly from here. Trick of the light. Too much sun for him already. Over heated. Yeah, that was it. Had to be.

He tried to breathe and found that he couldn't. His lungs were much too tight.

"Ron!" Harry shouted, and Ron had the impression that his name had been called several times before...

"Go on," Ron said dismissively, wondering if Harry knew exactly what was on his mind as Harry shrugged and left Ron standing there alone, heading away from the hotel steps, down the sandy slope towards Ginny...

He wasn't crazy. That _was _Hermione. He had no doubt. But... but...  
_  
Move!_

Forcing his legs into action, he started in her direction, though he had to focus on the horizon to prevent himself from another heart attack...

And then, he was standing behind her, towering over her, mere feet away.

He swallowed hard... and tilted his head down.

The words inside his head jumbled into meaningless strings of letters as if the English language had been shocked right out of him.

"Ron?"

She squinted and tilted her head back to look at him upside down. Was she blushing? What did he look like to her?

He took a quick inventory of his facial features, trying to arrange them back into what he thought of as normal. Innocent. Nonthreatening.

"Yeah," he somehow choked through his dry throat.

"Hi," she said softly. She was definitely blushing.

Her breasts were pressing up through the thin, shiny caramel material stretched over them. It was the most perfect thing he had ever seen. And as she looked away from him, from his position behind her, her eyelashes made elongated shadows down her cheeks, jagged and seductive somehow...

She had always been this gorgeous. Now she wasn't even trying to hide it from _him_... Did she know what she was doing to him? Could she?

Summoning all his courage, he stepped to her left, walked down a few feet, and turned back to face her, letting the wind take his navy blue towel into the air as he extended it next to her, allowing it to come to rest on the sand a foot away from hers.

She gave him a soft smile before looking away again, as if caught staring but not wanting to seem overly obvious by darting her eyes off in a random, very different direction... as he had seen her do on multiple occasions in the past. He was as guilty as she was of this crime, and he now wanted nothing more than to stamp it out in favor of something much more fun...

Her legs... thin but shapely, ankles crossed. And that incredibly intoxicating triangle of fabric stretched across her...

His muscles tensed up, not allowing him to move again. This was getting a bit tiresome.

_Got to look away..._

He lowered his body swiftly onto the towel next to hers, and, discarding all pride, he removed his t-shirt with a quick tug and dropped it in the sand to his left. His back hit the soft fabric of his towel, and he was staring up at the clouds. Next to _her_.

"This place is so nice," Hermione breathed. She was nervous. It was a glorious revelation...

"Oh yeah." He paused and cleared his throat. "Very."

Painfully awkward silence filled the salty air between them.

She turned her head to the left... and gasped.

"What is it?" Ron said suddenly, looking over at her. She was staring at him, almost hurt like she'd lost something or was watching it die here now... "Hermione, what?" Ron demanded, feeling uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

He knew she wasn't moving intentionally, her fingers stretching up towards his cheek. And then she touched him. The world stood still.

"G-Ginny said it was bad, but..."

He was still catching up, dizzy... speechless. And then he remembered.

"Oh!"

The gash that ran from under his eye to the middle of his cheek. He had been hit with flying debris inside a collapsing building during his mission with Harry. But he'd thought it was starting to look decent, not so ugly that he was embarrassed for others to see it. Now he wondered if the healer's inquiry about concealment charms had been dismissed too quickly.

"Yeah, doesn't look great, sorry," he muttered, her fingers no longer against his skin, but so close that if he moved in just the right way, they would be again.

"Sorry?" she asked, forehead creased, confused as she blinked and finally lowered her arm to her own towel again, a wave of self-consciousness rippling between them.

"Yeah, should have used a concealment charm..."

"Ron, that's not what I meant," Hermione said quickly, looking shocked. "I just... I was... worried."

"Worried?" He had to have misheard.

"When Ginny said you were at St. Mungo's."

It all clicked. She had known about this before she'd seen him.

_Ginny..._

"She shouldn't have told you about it," Ron said a bit defensively. "It wasn't that bad. I go in all the time after a mission..."

Hermione stared at him sadly, and he wondered if it was possible that he had hurt her feelings. But the moment passed and she nodded, returning her attention to the sky above.

He felt her slipping away again. Something comfortable that had been possible for only a second was dying in the air...

_Change the subject... change the subject!_

"Hey, you've been to Italy before, haven't you," Ron said, shifting against his towel, adjusting his sunglasses.

Brilliant planning, wearing something to cover his most emotive feature... She would never catch on to him now.

"Um, yes... I have," she said, caught off guard.

"Summer after first year, yeah?"

"How... how do you remember that?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"You mentioned it in a letter," Ron shrugged. "Dunno, just remembered."

He felt her eyes on him and he turned to face her again. She shifted her body completely, lying on her side now.

How was she doing this, remaining so in control? He caught a momentary shudder. It began at her chest and radiated through to her arms. Had he imagined it?

And without meaning to, he caught the most amazing glimpse down...

Tucked onto her side, the small bit of fabric covering each of her breasts was trying to conform to gravity, allowing him the most incredible view, an exaggerated bit of cleavage between the triangles of silky fabric that covered her... or were trying their best to.

_Say something!_

He turned onto his side now too, completely facing her, absorbed in the space between them. She smiled sweetly and he felt his eyes water behind his glasses.

"Bet I can name every country you've been to," Ron said suddenly, out of nowhere. He wasn't really this confident... was he? It had to have been nerve fueled, this challenge he had risen to.

She raised her eyebrows, accepting him.

"Okay," she said, waiting for his list.

And as quickly as he had blurted out what he intended to do, he realized how easy it was going to be to do it.

"Italy, France, Ireland, Australia."

Her eyes widened. She was impressed...

"In chronological order!" she exclaimed, grinning happily.

"Told you," he replied, flirtatious instincts directing him, enabling him though he would never have guessed it was possible to be this brave.

"What about Bulgaria?" Hermione asked slyly, raising an eyebrow.

Ron shook his head.

"Nah," he said, and for the first time, the mention of Viktor's home land didn't churn his stomach sickeningly.  
_  
What the hell is happening? !_

"You're so sure?" she asked, grinning fully at him now.

"Definitely."

And then she giggled.

_Giggled_.

And turned over again onto her back.

What was it he was supposed to do again? Breathe?

He flipped onto his own back.  
_  
Hermione never went to Bulgaria. Hermione never went to Bulgaria!_

Though he had stopped asking himself if she had, stopped wondering even, this was the first moment when he had actually realized the truth, the answer he had sought for so long before giving up.

And he knew this fact now as well as he knew his own name.

Then, out of nowhere, Harry stepped into Ron's sun, oblivious.

"Oy, Harry!" Ron shouted.

Harry turned and looked down at the pair of them, both staring up at him, smiling.

"Name the countries Hermione's been to," Ron demanded. A challenge.

"Uh..." Harry began, thinking.

Confidence in his position, Ron grinned as Hermione shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand to her forehead, waiting for Harry's response, amused.  
_  
You've got this!  
_  
"Australia..." Harry said slowly.

"Oh yeah, go for the obvious one first," Ron teased.

Harry glared at Ron as he continued to think... hard.

"France! You've been there!" Harry seemed far too please with himself.

"Is that all?" Ron asked, leaning up on his elbows.

"I... think so?"

"Nice try," Ron grinned, settling onto his back again, comfortable and in control. "Ron one, Harry zero."

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron.

"Bet I can name the countries _you've_ been to," Harry said, smirking.

Ron blinked at Harry.

"Egypt." Harry paused dramatically after he had finished.

"Prat," said Ron.

"Right, well, I'm off to find Ginny, leave you to your guessing games..." and with that, Harry turned and jogged away.

A long silence settled between Ron and Hermione, and the wind, though warm, sent chills through Ron's skin, burrowing their way to his soul.

He was here with her, exactly where he never though he'd be.

"Were there a lot of good beaches in Australia?" he asked, realizing instantly that he had asked the wrong thing...

Hermione went rigid next to him. Though he remained a foot away, Ron could sense it. She wasn't going to answer him.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I really didn't mean..."

What was the word for what he didn't mean?

"Let's go for a swim," he said, tilting his head in her direction, begging for yet another second chance to get this right.

She looked into his eyes, though she couldn't know that's where she was looking exactly. He felt that familiar tingle all the way down to his toes.

"Okay," she said.

He removed his sunglasses and felt more naked than he had when he'd removed his shirt.

They stood. They breathed. They walked. They managed, together, all normal functions of life. And they stepped into the wet sand at the edge of the sea.

Large pale feet next to tiny delicately tanned ones.

And he found that he didn't feel so out of place next to her, not how he expected to feel.

He looked down at her, grinned lopsidedly, the right corner of his mouth turned up.

_Here we go..._

Trembling, he grabbed her hand and ran.

She squealed as he pulled her into the water, waves splashing them as they moved further and further forward.

When the water reached his ribs, he stopped and dropped her hand, aware even subconsciously of their height difference, wanting to keep her safe even in the carefree adventure they were experiencing now.

She smiled at him before looking back towards the shore. Harry and Ginny were occupied with themselves, no regard at all for Ron and Hermione. And she grinned wider as she spotted them.

Ron felt all she was feeling, understood how she was as happy as he was that no one was there to bother them or tease them.

A large wave rolled in their direction and they turned, allowing it to drag them towards the shore. And again, laughing, they ran back into the depths, ready to go again. It was like a ride, being pushed and pulled through the day, pleasantly exhausting as they ran out for the fourth time.

And finally, out of breath, Hermione dragged her feet through the shallow water and out completed, back onto dry ground. She turned. She was really going to wait for him...

He jogged to catch up to her and they walked side by side back to their towels. She twirled around, digging her feet deeper into the sand as Ron stumbled, dazed, up to Hermione's towel. Without thinking, he half fell onto it on his stomach, stretching out his long body, feet hanging off the end.

She laughed and pulled her hair away from her face, twisting it into a bun as she dropped onto his towel, resting on her back as her chest rose and fell deeply.

"Ooh!" she exclaimed suddenly, sitting up again. "Want a daiquiri?" she asked, staring down the beach at something Ron couldn't really see from his position next to her.

He was blinded, gloriously, by the curve of Hermione's body, her back, bum and legs forming the most beautiful angle, weight pushing her slightly into the sand, dark blue terrycloth pressed down by tan silk and wet skin...

"Wuz that?" Ron asked, his lips rubbing against Hermione's towel as he spoke, the left side of his face pressed against it.

"Oh, nevermind," Hermione laughed. "We can share mine," and she smiled down at Ron before jumping up off Ron's towel.

Sand sprinkled into Ron's hair and he closed his eyes.

"Oh, sorry!" Hermione said, leaning over him... and running her fingers through his hair to remove the sand!

He was holding his breath, begging her not to notice.

When he opened his eyes, he caught her blush as she turned away from him. And trying to stop himself but failing, he watched her jogging away from him, hips and legs and arms and... and...

He was spinning, but it felt incredible.

_

* * *

_

When Ron opened his eyes again, Hermione was staring back at him, holding a cold pink drink in her hand.

"Did I fall asleep?" Ron asked, confused as he lifted his head from Hermione's towel.

"Yes," she said, though he was struck with the feeling that she found this fact somehow endearing...

He was reading _way _too much into everything... he was sure. But it felt so wonderful, and he wasn't sure he was ready to stop.

He sat up, ruffled his hair, and looked more closely at the drink in Hermione's hands. She sipped it, lips curved around her red straw. He blinked and looked away.

_Don't stare..._

"Want some?" she offered, holding it towards him.

_Hell yes..._

He took the drink from her. It was like he was about to kiss her, his heart was beating so fast.  
_  
You stupid tosser..._

He lowered his mouth to the straw - _where her mouth had just been! _- and took a long sip.

"Woah, this is good," he said, admiring the drink after he swallowed. "What did you say it was?"

"Strawberry daiquiri," Hermione replied as he handed the drink back to her.

"Hey, losers!" came Ginny's voice from... somewhere...

And then she appeared, silhouetted by the sun.

"We're going up to change for dinner," she said as she reached them. "Coming?"

Ron marveled in the way Hermione looked at him for confirmation before answering. Would she do whatever he did, whatever he wanted?

"Want to?" she asked.  
_  
I fucking love you..._

"Whatever you want..." he breathed.

"Let's go," she almost whispered.

Ron nodded, stood, and together they picked up each other's towels. Ron bunched up his shirt and tucked one arm of his sunglasses into his shorts. They followed Ginny and met up with Harry where he was waiting, dry but sandy, a few feet away.

Ron fell into step next to Harry, disappointed when Hermione fell back with Ginny. But he continued forward, Hermione's towel draped over his bare shoulder.

"Have fun?" Harry asked, a hint of a grin as he glanced sideways at Ron.

"Yeah," Ron said simply. He didn't feel like talking. He was reveling...

His ears burned. Was she thinking of him? Was she watching him?

_Stupid selfish git!_

He wasn't the only thing on her mind! She thought of other things, after all...

But when he finally turned back around for a glance in her direction, her cheeks were flushed...

They re-entered the hotel lobby, cold air sending Hermione into visible shivers. She wrapped Ron's towel around her body, completed enveloped inside it...

He was a puddle on the marble floor...

"Meet you here in twenty minutes?" Ginny asked, looking from Harry to Ron.

"Perfect," Harry smiled.

Hermione finally looked right at Ron, smiled, held his towel closed in front of her body...

There was a sparkle, like light hitting crystal, hidden deep within her eyes. He blinked, hoping to reflect this beauty back at her.

And without another word, they turned at the same moment, away from each other.

And walked. And breathed. And lived.


	12. Who We Are

**Chapter 12: Who We Are**

_[Companion Track: Princeton - Show Some Love, When Your Man Gets Home (_http : / www . youtube . com /watch?v=0Eq3muOjDsI_) ] - remove spaces in link_

**

* * *

**

Hermione shut the bathroom door with a click and leaned against it, still clutching Ron's towel, jaw on the floor.

What had just happened?

One minute she'd been shivering on the beach alone, feeling completely naked and exposed, and the next, Ron was holding her hand and dragging her out into the waves!

Her brain felt scrambled, fried even, and she had no clue how to even _begin _to understand what it all meant. She hadn't meant to flirt with him, had never intended... but that's what she had _done_, wasn't it? It had just felt so comfortable, so normal again, like nothing had ever happened between them... nothing bad anyway.

In a way, she felt ashamed, like she hadn't been able to keep her own promise to herself. It had taken the mere sight of him to knock her off course...

She finally stepped away from the bathroom door and let Ron's towel fall to the floor, but when she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror over the sink, she felt sick to her stomach.

And it seemed that she had made yet another mistake in a long line of mistakes.

_I should never have let him see me like this..._

He was a boy after all, a _man _actually, and she had basically shown him all there was to see. Of course he was going to take notice! Not that she thought there was much to really notice...

She ran a hand down her side, feeling her ribs where they pressed against her skin. And her chest... she wouldn't even bother to think of all that was wrong there. At least in a sweater she could pad what she did have, not that she ever cared about such things... not typically, at least.

But Ginny... Ginny was gorgeous. It made perfect sense that Harry'd want to be with her. Ron deserved to be with someone beautiful too.

She clamped her eyes shut.

_Damn it, Hermione!  
_  
How long was it going to take for her to stop?

But...

But she was here to have fun, to enjoy herself, to try to be _friends_... and _he_ had made that so bloody difficult... looking all perfect and smiling at her, stretching out his body next to hers...

It was self destructive to allow him to flirt with her like that when she knew he had to still be angry with her. She had done a terrible thing to him, leaving him behind without any explanation, and it had all started with her mistake. Maybe he had forgiven her, but it was about more than being forgiven. She had to _feel _it.

Guilt still weighed so heavily on her, and she knew what she had to do. They were supposed to talk. She had promised. And here they were, comfortable again, ignoring what they had to do to fix this once and for all.

She was going to talk to him. Tonight. After dinner. She was sure she could get him alone and just go for it. She wanted a well planned speech, phrases lined up as retorts to any opposition he could give... or any unexpected reaction. She just _had _to get this right. It might be her last chance.

She ran her fingers through her hair and thought hard. How was this going to go? She'd walk up to him, tell him she was ready to talk. He'd go with her for a walk maybe. And then she'd say...

What? What would she say next?

The first words felt like the most important ones, the ones that would set up the tone of the conversation. She didn't want to fall apart again in front of him. She wanted to be level headed and in control. But she needed him to understand what she wanted.

And at the same time, she needed to be sure she never lost him again. Not for another minute.

But this was about _her_, about telling him the truth and being upfront. No more lies. No more secrets. And that was exactly why she felt she had to _teach _herself the lie, to _make _it true.

_But what do you __**really **__want?_

_Whatever __**he**__ wants._

_And what does he want?_

Exactly. She didn't know.

_See the problem now?_

Back at the beginning again, pointless agony.

Then it was true...

All roads led here.

She should have read the signs more carefully as usual before heading down this dark path alone.

_Too late now._

"Hermione, are you coming?" Ginny called from the other side of the door.

"Uh, yeah, just a minute!" Hermione shouted back, still staring at her own reflection in the mirror, still clad in Ginny's ridiculous bathing suit.

She stripped down, averting her eyes from her own reflection this time so as not to distract herself yet again with all her imperfections, and she dressed quickly for dinner.

_

* * *

_

She met his eyes from across the hall, his hair wonderfully tossed about and looking perfectly messy. He gave her a small smile before looking away, hands in his pockets as he chatted with Harry, waiting for Hermione and Ginny to reach them at the hotel's restaurant entrance.

They sat at a square table, Hermione and Harry across from each other. It seemed natural, unintentional, that she would find herself sitting closest to Ron. And she wouldn't have even thought about it if she hadn't been so nervous of what she had planned for after dinner.

"You look nice, Hermione," Harry said, the first one to really speak to her. And it was, irrationally, a bit disappointing to hear Harry compliment her.

"Thanks, Harry," she said with a brief smile in his direction.

She hadn't worn anything too special, a simple yellow dress. She was sure that Harry must have seen her wear it before. They had been out together a few times since she'd returned from Australia.

Trying to accept the compliment and forget about the way Ron was staring at Harry and not her, almost as if he wished Harry had not said what he had to Hermione, she absorbed herself in her menu.

"Drinks?" Ginny inquired brightly, glancing around the table at everyone.

Hermione wanted nothing less. She had felt repulsed by the mere idea of alcohol since her unfortunate encounter with Ron the week before...

"No thanks," she said shortly. She might have imagined it, but she could have sworn she caught Ron hiding a grin behind his own menu.

Everyone else ordered drinks, and eventually, she calmed down settled into something familiar with Harry and Ginny, able to put her confusing situation with Ron out of her mind temporarily.

_This can work._

_

* * *

_

He wanted to touch her. The urge was nearly taking him over. He had to force himself into distraction so he wouldn't do something stupid.

She was talking, though he was watching her lips out of the corner of his eye. He heard her words, something about a book she'd read... typical. But it wasn't until he heard the word 'Australia' that he really started focusing on what her words _meant_.

"Tell me all about Sydney," Ginny said, sipping her wine, eyes sparkling. "I have _always_ wanted to go there."

"Have you?" Ron asked, but his comment went mostly unnoticed as Harry addressed Ginny.

"Next year!" Harry said happily.

_Hell no._

He'd shocked himself with his own thoughts. But then of _course _he didn't want to go to Australia. He never wanted to hear mention of it again...

"Sydney's lovely," Hermione said when she had finished chewing her last bite of salad. "My parents were really well set there. They had a great place near the city."

"Bet it was hard to come back home," said Ginny dully.

"They were glad to, really," replied Hermione.

"How about the beaches there?" Ginny asked. "I've seen pictures in travel books and the water's so beautiful!"

"Yeah, it's really wonderful, clear green and deep blue... and the sand is so white."

Ron glared at his own plate. He was going to say something he'd regret in a minute, he was sure of it. Why had it been so easy for him to ask her about this very same thing earlier in the day? Because he'd been in control, and she hadn't wanted to talk about it anyway. What if he'd actually asked her about the beaches out of spite before? What if, subconsciously, he'd known it would upset her and he'd gone ahead and said it for that very reason?

It seemed sickeningly likely.

He took quick inventory of everyone's plates. They were nearly empty. He could leave, escape _now_...

"Okay, we have to go to Sydney!" Ginny said excitedly. "Not that it isn't wonderful _here_..."

Hermione smiled.

"Yes, this is amazing. Thank you, Harry," she said. Her eyes darted in Ron's direction. And he found it no longer possible to continue being here.

"I'm going for a walk," Ron said, standing.

Hermione looked up at him, forehead creased. Did she know?

"Alright, Ron?" Harry asked.

"Yeah! I'm fine, really," Ron said, and he was actually very convincing.

He looked down at Hermione to see if she'd bought it. And by the way she was trying to smile at him, he guessed that she had.

For a final flourish, Ron stretched his arms and legs. It wasn't a total fabrication. He had been a bit cramped sitting there for so long.

He handed Harry some money, finished off his wine, and left the table, taking note of the fact that Ginny was pulling on her sweater to leave as well. So he hadn't been _too _rude. They were ready to go anyway.  
_  
_But as he reached the hotel lobby, his legs carried him up the stairs instead of outside. There was a permanent lump in his throat. His eyes burned from far too little sleep.

And she had left him.

It hit him again, as fresh as if it had just happened.

But... hadn't he forgotten? Hadn't he forgiven her? He had _acted _that way on the beach, had been free and in control at the same time. It had felt perfect there with her.

But she had _left _him.

For. a. year.

He entered the hotel room he shared with Harry and began to pace, hands running nervously through his hair. Moments later, the door clicked open again and Ron turned. It was only Harry, so Ron resumed his pacing. He felt Harry's eyes on him, unmoving from where he was still standing just inside the door.  
_  
Fine, you're here. You get to listen..._

"I'm going to piss away my chance to be friends with her again, you know," Ron began. "I can't take it when she talks about it. I can't take thinking about it..."

"Because she left you behind," Harry stated, filling in the gaps Ron was leaving in his rambling. "Why did you change your mind?" Harry asked, confusing Ron.

"About what?" Ron asked, stopping and facing Harry.

"You said you couldn't try to be her friend, and now you're trying bloody hard to be just that..."

"Yeah, well..." Ron shrugged. "Who knows what I'm thinking. I sure don't."

"What would it take to fix things between you two for good?" Harry asked.

"A really terrible row?" Ron felt the truth of this weighing down on him.

"Why does it always have to be that way with you two?" Harry sighed.

Ron slowly started to grin.

"Keep standing there in front of the door. It's the only way you'll keep me from going over to her room right now to have it out."

Harry blinked incredulously at Ron.

"You really _like _fighting with her, don't you."

Ron's grin grew.

"You're sick, both of you," Harry said, but he was grinning too, shaking his head. "You get as much pleasure from shouting at each other as normal, healthy people would get from a good snog."

Ron blushed but laughed. There was some sick truth in Harry's words.

"Okay," Ron started. "I'm not going to fight with her. At least until we get back to London..."

"Wow, what a huge sacrifice on your part. How will you survive?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"I dunno," Ron chuckled, pushing past Harry to open the door.

But Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron skeptically.

"Promise is a promise," Ron said, trying to reassure Harry as he opened the door. "I'm going for the walk I thought I was going to take earlier..."

Harry still seemed a bit apprehensive, but he let Ron go, swinging the door shut again behind him...

_

* * *

_

She'd circled the hotel once already, unable to locate him. This had been her chance, a perfect moment to find him on his own and really talk. But, as usual, her abysmal luck haunted her. She was just walking back from a quick trip out onto the sand where she'd headed towards the vast, deep darkness of the sea beyond, when she saw him.

She stopped, frozen, as she watched him, hands in his pockets, descending the back stairs. The yellow orange glow from the torch lit back wall of the hotel illuminated him clearly. He stood there, encased by bright candlelight, and from her position on the very edge of the lit grounds, she could almost disappear into the night, completely unnoticed, and simply watch him.

But she had a plan.

_Go. Now._

Her legs carried her right up to him, and he failed to notice until she was close enough to speak without shouting.

"Oh, hi," he said casually. A bit _too _casually...

"Want to walk?" she asked, cursing herself for jumping too quickly to the point.

"Uh, yeah, sure," he said, surprising her with his willingness to cooperate.

She had assumed he had come out here to be alone, and her intrusion, though necessary in her mind, was going to take a bit of easing into. But so far, she had reached the point she figured she'd be at in ten or fifteen minutes right off the bat. She could use the excuse that she was still unprepared, but it was getting to be a very meaningless excuse.

So they walked. Without any true direction. And she took a deep breath...

_

* * *

_

"Ron, I thought... I wanted to... keep my promise to you..."

He glanced sideways at her as they stepped onto the soft white sand.

"I thought we could have that talk now."

_No._

He knew what that talk would mean. She wanted to talk about being friends. But he wanted to hold onto the illusion that they were moving towards so much more.

It would crush him.

He knew it.

"We... uh... we really don't have to," he said, slowing his pace as they neared the edge of the light. "We sort of already worked it out... in a way..." he continued, feeling awkward, scared that she'd insist...

"But... I just want to be sure we're on the same page..." she began, and her mouth had not closed, had not completed its task, before Ron spoke again. He had to stop her.

"We're okay, Hermione," he said. "I'm pretty happy with everything right now, aren't you?"

Well, that was a lie. But if it made her stop...

_

* * *

_

Hermione stared up at him, tears burning her eyes as they tried to form against her will.

So this was it. This was all they'd ever have.

A flash of his feet next to hers on the wet sand, his grin beneath his sunglasses, his hand taking hers without warning...  
_  
Okay. This is okay._

"You're right," she said, trying to smile but failing. "Um, so I'll just go back inside then. That's really all I wanted to say."

_Go. Now._

She turned away from him.

"Hey!" he called.

"Yeah?"

"Don't go in just because of me. I don't need to be alone."

She smiled. So it _was _still possible to do.

"It's alright," she said softly. "I'm a bit tired anyway."

He nodded, though he looked like he wanted to say more. But without another word, she turned and headed back inside, shivering as she felt him watching her all the way up the stairs...

_

* * *

_

She wasn't crying because she had a reason to be sad. Things hadn't turned out so bad. He'd let her be there with him, hadn't sent her away. And he'd even told her she could stay.

No, she was crying because... because... well, she didn't know why, really. Things had gone alright. And all that time she'd spent preparing what she'd say to him, it had just been a waste.

He didn't want to talk.

She held back another wave of tears as she thought about this fact. He had clearly been avoiding her the last few days, only to hope that things could be okay when they got here, that she'd forget about the talk altogether.

Yes, that had to be it.

And this was going to be okay. She was going to be alright with this. She knew that she was, but that didn't stop her tears from forming and falling quietly.

It was nearly eleven, so she showered quickly and changed into her pajamas, focused on not focusing on him.

Tomorrow she'd see him again. And he'd smile. And she'd be okay.

_Just fine._

_

* * *

_

So, Ginny was in the room with Harry. Typical. It really figured. And now Ron was standing outside the door, trying not to overhear them. They didn't know he was here, and he felt extremely self conscious. But it was nearly eleven. They had to go their separate ways soon, right?

Who was he kidding? Eleven was still very early. He could probably count on at least another hour or two of snogging...

The thought made him gag a little, so he stepped away from the door at last. He'd just have to find something to do...

_No! You are __**not **__going down there..._

But, as he had learned over and over again on countless occasions, his brain rarely dictated his actions... and he found himself heading down the side hallway, turning to the left, and standing face to face with the door to Ginny and... and _Hermione's_ room.

_Just knock..._

His brain had finally given up, tired of all the rejection. And so... he knocked.

His stomach erupted instantly into a fit of butterflies. And then he heard her on the other side.

"Ginny?" she called.

"Uh, no," Ron said, "it's-" but she opened the door before he could finish.

His heart leapt into his throat. She was standing before him in her pajamas, hair wet from a recent shower, not that he hadn't seen her that way before, but the way her light blue tank top hugged her stomach, her long cotton bottoms low on her hips...  
_  
Oh great..._

"Sorry, were you in bed?" Maybe he could just leave, spare himself...

"No, it's fine," she said with a smile. "I was practicing some new spells, actually."

He grinned. Perfect. He knew this girl. So well.

"Want some company?" This was going to be just fine. "Ginny's been in our room with Harry for God knows how long, and I'm bored as hell."

She laughed. And his grin planted itself permanently on his face as she stepped back to let him in.

"I thought this might happen," Hermione said, rolling her eyes playfully. "We should have all gotten our own rooms."

"I'm glad you think I'm rich enough to afford anything close to this, really, but if Harry wasn't paying, I'd be staying in a tent on the sand," Ron said as Hermione closed the door behind him.

"That could be nice, though," Hermione said, but she blushed immediately, and Ron tried not to consider why that was... "Did you get a burn?" she asked out of nowhere.

"Huh?"

"Your cheeks are really red."  
_  
Thanks for noticing... and pointing it out._

"Oh." He touched his face and felt how warm it was. So maybe it _was _more than a blush after all. "Oh! Maybe I _did_... hadn't noticed."

He shifted his shoulders, and suddenly, he noticed how uncomfortable his back was. He grimaced.

"Yeah, you're right. Pretty sure my back is done for..."

Hermione gave him an apologetic grimace before passing him and picking up her duffel bag. She set it down on her bed, climbed onto the bed behind it, and began to rummage through the bag.

"I have something..." she said as she continued to dig through her things.

Uncomfortable suddenly, standing so exposed in the middle of this huge hotel room, the girl he was secretly completely in love with his only company, Ron scratched the back of his neck and finally headed over towards the bed just to give his body some way to release a bit of frustrated energy.

"Here," Hermione said, handing him a large bottle of a strange looking green paste. "It'll help a lot."

"Thanks," Ron said as he studied the bottle. "Yeah, I'll go try this," and he slipped quickly out of the room, into the bathroom, closing the door all the way behind him.

She had seen him shirtless before, yeah, but he was not going to run the risk of her getting some crazy idea that she should help him to actually put this stuff _on_...

_

* * *

_

Hermione leaned back against her headboard, bouncing her feet impatiently as she waited for Ron to come out of the loo. She had actually _faked _how long it had taken for her to find the ointment she'd given him just so she could plan out how she was going to ask to help him with it.

_Pathetic. He doesn't need you._

_

* * *

_

_Damn it, I need Hermione..._

It was far more difficult to reach his own back than he had anticipated. He was on the point of charming the stuff onto his skin when he realized how terribly that could go...

Giving up, accepting his fate as a radish for the rest of the weekend, he put his shirt back on, only his shoulders feeling any better at all. He wiped some ointment onto his cheeks, screwed the cap back onto the bottle, and opened the bathroom door.

"Thanks," he said, handing Hermione the bottle. "Feels better."

_Where I could actually reach at least..._

"You're welcome," and she tossed the bottle back into her duffel bag. But she wasn't moving from her comfortable place on her bed. What was he supposed to do now?

Ginny's bed. That was a neutral, unobtrusive place to be. So he walked around the foot of Hermione's bed and sat on Ginny's.

"Would you like some tea?" Hermione asked, already sliding off her bed. "They have a great blend here, really sweet."

"I thought you didn't like your tea too sweet," Ron said, adjusting his back against Ginny's headboard and stretching out his legs.

"This one's good," and she headed over to the little counter near the door, opened the drawer underneath, and pulled out a box.

As Ron watched her, he had an overwhelming feeling of home, like, in some way, this hotel room was where he was meant to be always... with her. But before he could let this sink in, she had returned and was handing him a mug.

"Thanks," he said, throat dry.

He took a sip. It was as good as she'd said.

"Not bad," and he took another sip as she resumed her position on her own bed. "So what spells are you working on?"

"Oh, I was just killing time, but now you're here," she said, smiling at him.

Ron set his mug down on the nightstand between their beds and, twitching slightly with excitement, removed his shoes and allowed them to fall with two dull thuds to the floor.

"Want to place some bets?" Ron asked, leaning casually against Ginny's headboard again.

"On what?" Hermione asked, turning to face him directly, her eyes shining brightly.

"What time Ginny will come back," Ron explained, smirking.

"Do you mind, that she's in there?"

"Wasn't sure what I was going to do if you were asleep, but it's okay now," Ron said, missing the point and realizing it after he'd spoken. "Oh, you mean because of her and Harry."

Hermione nodded.

"Well, I've had quite a while to get used to that," he said. "I guess you weren't there to see..."

It was too easy to end up here, every time, facing what she'd done to him. Tension rose as Hermione tried to stomp it out by drowning herself in her tea mug.

"Got any Exploding Snap cards?" Ron asked, shifting against the headboard, hopeful that he could, as usual, relieve the awkwardness of unspoken words with a subject change.

His back was burning and now his ears were ringing, pounding as blood pumped too fast. Was it natural, or healthy, for a person to get this worked up by another person?

"No, I don't, sorry," Hermione said, clearing her throat gently.

How was it possible to be this turned on by every single sound she made?

He _had _to admit to himself who he was, who he would always be, because it was so painfully obvious...

He was _hers_. Even if she didn't know it.

"But I actually _do _have some Muggle cards," she added as she reached forward into her bag again. "Me and my Mum played them on the plane ride back from Sydney."

_It's just a word. Just a bloody city you never got to go to..._

"Okay," Ron said as Hermione pulled two packs of cards out of her bag and bounced over to Ginny's bed.

Trying to control his eyebrows, Ron watched as Hermione jumped up onto Ginny's bed and sat facing him.

"There's a game my Mum taught me called Spite and Malice," Hermione began.

"Charming," Ron said, grinning lopsidedly.

She glanced up at him, gave him a pointed look, and returned to the cards, shuffling the packs together. He grinned as he watched her.

"So, what you do..." she started, but she stopped short, counting out her cards and setting them down on the bed between Ron and herself. "This is my pay-off pile..."

Not bothering to even ask what the hell that meant, Ron watched as she counted out cards in another stack much closer to him.

"And this is yours," she said.

Then she handed him five cards.

"What do I do with these?" he asked, taking them from her.

"That's your hand," Hermione said, watching as his eyebrows lifted, waiting for more of an explanation. "We'll come back to that," she laughed.

She set five cards in front of herself, then proceeded to shuffle the remaining cards again and set them between the two piles she had created before.

"This is the stock pile," she said, shifting around on her bum, tucking her legs into a pretzel in front of her.

It took great effort, but Ron finally remembered how to blink.

"So, you've got to play your cards over here," she pointed to Ron's left, touched her index finger to the bed, "and the idea is to beat me to getting rid of the cards in your hand and the ones in _that _stack." She pointed to what she had called Ron's pay-off stack.

He was hanging onto what she was saying by a thin thread. One more piece of information and he was afraid she would lose him...

"So, the Ace... that counts as a one. And you have to start a pile with that card, then build onto it until you get to the Queen."

Yep. He was lost. Utterly lost.

She was smiling, the corners of her mouth twitching.

"Want me to go over that again?" she asked, way too amused.

"If you think it'll help," Ron said, and she laughed. A full, happy laugh.

Ron swallowed, but it was no use. The lump was there to stay...

_

* * *

_

She wasn't sure if they'd ever actually start playing the game, and honestly, she didn't know if she even cared. She was having more fun than she'd had in... longer than she wanted to admit.

So, they hadn't talked. But it didn't seem to matter. Maybe Ron was right. Maybe they _did _understand each other, no need for words in the end.

"Okay, sorry, just _one _more time," Ron requested, repressing his grin.

Hermione laughed and shook her head, marveling at how adorable he could make everything he ever did...

"That," Hermione said, pointing enthusiastically at the top card on Ron's pay-off pile, the card that was now facing up, "is a card you can play. You can put it out in the middle here," and she pointed to his left again, to the blank spot on the bed that she'd left open for played cards.

"But only if it's the next consecutive number for the stack I'm about to put it on?"

"Yes!" she said happily. He finally got it.

She had known from the start that her explanation of the game wasn't great, but she had committed to it in a way, knowing that she'd get to say it all over again to him... and watch him furrow his eyebrows as he listened, his lips parting as he studied her every motion.

She was a bit devious, yeah. But it was well worth it.

But then the door opened and they both jumped, though they had no real reason to.

Ginny stood there looking dazed and sleepy, and she walked slowly into the room, toeing off her shoes as the door closed behind her. But her eyes finally landed on Ron and she froze.

"Interrupting?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, much too quickly.

Ginny waited for more information, still frozen in front of the door.

"It's okay," Ron said to Hermione, ignoring his sister. "I'll play the game tomorrow. At least now I know how to do it."

Hermione grinned as Ron scooted to the edge of the bed and slipped his feet awkwardly into his shoes.

_So he'll be back here tomorrow!_

"Sorry to be such a daft git," he said as he stood, wiggling his feet further into his shoes.

Hermione shook her head, still grinning, and their eyes met.

For a moment, she waited for something to happen between them, a lightning strike or a fast moving current.

But Ginny moved behind Ron, and he stepped back, turned... walked towards the door.

"Goodnight," Hermione called to him as he opened the door.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he said, smiling softly before slipping out into the hallway.

And just the fact that he'd said her name, that he'd lingered on each syllable so sleepily, completely melted her heart.

She knew who she was, and she had to admit it, if only just to herself.

She was _his_. Even if he didn't know it.

She closed her eyes, not even caring now if Ginny was watching.

But miraculously, Ginny walked lazily into the bathroom, shut the door, and turned on the faucet.

Hermione let out the breath she had been holding against her knowledge, sighing audibly as she collected the cards from Ginny's bed and climbed into her own bed. She tossed the cards into her duffel bag, slid the bag to the floor, and sank down into her bed, enveloped by soft cotton and thick feather pillows.

It was like sleeping in heaven. Only one thing was missing. And she knew where to find him.

She closed her eyes, and, focusing on the image of that last glimpse of him in her doorway, she drifted off to sleep...

* * *

_**A/N: **Things are building up now! I hope everyone enjoyed that chapter :) I realized earlier today that I have a deadline fast approaching for a challenge fic I'm doing over on LiveJournal, so I may have to slow down the updates on this story just a tiny bit until I get done with that. The deadline is 17 Oct, so you can be sure that after that, I will be focused in on this again as my #1 priority in fandom. That is not to say that I won't continue to update until then, but updates might come every few days instead of every day like they've been. But I can promise that I **will **finish the story. I have no intentions of leaving anyone hanging for very long._


	13. Lies, in Six Words

**Chapter 13: Lies, in Six Words**

_[Companion Track: Everything Everything - Weights (_http: / listen . grooveshark . com /#/search/songs/?query=everything%20everything%20weights%20man%20alive_) ] - remove spaces in link_

* * *

**June 11, 1998  
**  
Ron was already awake but hadn't yet made a sound, body still stretched out on top of his mattress, blankets in a twisted bundle around his legs. What was it he'd been dreaming?

Harry moved lazily in his own bed, stretching and blinking, reaching out for his glasses on the bedside table.

Another day. And Ron had to decide, as usual, how to face it. It was getting easier to just exist here, the idea of the holiday making it what Ron feared it couldn't be... not with her here. And he had been so relieved, so thrilled with how they'd been getting on, that it seemed like old times... in a way... when he'd smile and she'd smile back.

But was it going to be enough? How long could he make this last?

"Morning," Harry mumbled as he slid out of bed.

"Yeah, morning," Ron yawned, sitting up.

Harry went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. And Ron was left with his thoughts again.

He wondered if she'd be down on the beach. They hadn't planned...

He grinned, shaking his head. As if she'd plan her life around him.

But they were here together, and whether together meant just the two of them or all four of them, he could choose to pretend what he wanted, couldn't he? What harm could that do?

Just a few little lies, sprinkled around him, and he didn't necessarily have to believe them, just to accept them for the next few days.

Yes. He lied to himself. Every day, if he was being honest. And so far, it hadn't been the worst idea he'd ever had.

He suddenly remembered what he'd been dreaming about. And Harry chose this moment to walk back out of the bathroom. Ron blushed.

Harry raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Ron barely knew what she looked like... naked... but he'd been able to fill in the missing pieces quite easily.

_Damn that stupid bathing suit..._

Ron climbed out of bed finally, stretched, and prepared to face the day.

_

* * *

_

Hermione had arrived on the beach earlier than the crowds, before Ginny had even woken up. She was lying on her back, facing the beach... in what was going to soon become her usual spot. Somehow, she had forced herself back into that little bathing suit Ginny had loaned her. And though she was nervous, it was a different, happier kind of nervous.

And lying there alone, she allowed her mind to wander, perhaps farther than she had in a very long time.

Closing her eyes, she could see him as she'd viewed him from her position here now on the sand, looking up as he hovered high above her...

His sunglasses... God, she had never seen anything so sexy. She felt her cheeks burn, even alone here on the shore.

He was so bloody gorgeous. And she'd had front row seats yesterday... soft, light ginger hair across his chest, muscles flexing as he'd propped himself up on his elbows, hair fluffy and tousled against the top of _her _towel, legs too long and feet coated in soft white sand where they stretched off the end...

Did other girls here see him this way too? She hadn't considered it before, too caught up in her own show, pleasurably shocked at her proximity to him and that comfortable way that he'd _remained _closer than necessary to her. She'd have to see, to watch for signs. Something about the idea that others could be as turned on by his perfection as she was delighted her... if only she could _know _that he was unaware...

She opened her eyes, flipped onto her stomach, and watched as people began to stream out of the hotel. Girls on the arms of their boyfriends, others in groups having their breakfast on the back porch...

And suddenly, as if emerging from her thoughts, she saw Ron heading down the back steps onto the warm sand, feet bare. His tight white shirt hugged his chest brilliantly, and from her convenient position on the sloping shore, she could twist and see him as if he was the only person here at all.

He caught her watching and grinned, eyes hidden behind those dark glasses.

A group of girls headed up the stairs past him. And she knew they noticed him.

He was as oblivious as she had ever seen him, and she grinned widely back at him as he approached her. This was heaven.

Was he blushing now or was he still sunburned from yesterday?

"Hey," he called out to her, a bit too far away for it to be necessary to speak to her yet.

Two more steps, and he was above her again, looking down as he unfolded his towel.

"Hiya," she said casually, resting her chin on top of her hands. She could watch him all day...

He resumed his position from yesterday right next to her as if playing out a routine, stretching out on his back and staring up at the sky, hands behind his head.

"Another good day for the beach," he commented, yawning.

She smiled at him, still lying on her stomach, head turned in his direction. She rested her cheek against her hands again and just watched him. From here, she could actually see his eyes behind his sunglasses where the glasses were raised from his face on the side. His eyes were closed, and for some reason, she sensed that he was as nervous as she was suddenly, even though he showed now outward signs.

But why was she nervous now, when he wasn't even looking at her? She had the advantage after all, able to study him without his knowledge.

Some unspoken words lingered in the air between them, tightening their grip, and Hermione feared what this meant, that she could almost feel these words there now, when before, she'd been able to simply cast them aside and forget them altogether.

A long moment passed between them, and they simply remained frozen, the sounds of children playing nearby floating on the warm salty air in their direction.  
_  
He doesn't want to talk. He wants to forget it._

He had told her himself, made it clear. He didn't think they had anything to talk about. Well, that settled it. If he was being honest with her, if he really didn't think there was anything to say, then he felt nothing close to what she felt.

Circles, over and over again.

They all led back to this, to those little words, swirling around inside her head, the ones she'd given him a glimpse of that late night over a year ago now.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk?" she asked suddenly, wondering immediately how she'd managed to bring it up again, so absorbed in her own thoughts that she'd let them out without considering what they would mean to him.

"About what?" he asked, eyes still closed.

_About what? !_

Hermione's breath caught in her throat and her muscles tensed up. She could feel her anger rising to the surface. How could he pretend not to know? !

"Don't be daft, you know 'about what'!" Frustrated, she glared over at him, watching as his eyes blinked open. But he remained staring up, no other outward signs that he had been affected by her words.

"Then, no," he said slowly. "I'm sure I _don't_ want to talk."

And suddenly, all of Hermione's happiness, contentment, turned to fury. To avoid saying anything that she'd regret, she turned her head away from him, forward, her chin on her hands. And she clamped her eyes shut, bitter and guilty.

If he wanted to pretend everything was fine, if he could go on that way forever, then she'd just have to do the same. After all, wasn't that exactly what she'd claimed to want, why she'd been so happy about the night before, about how well they'd gotten on?

It couldn't be right. It felt like giving up. But she was willing to struggle through it, as she'd always known she would be. She opened her eyes, glanced sideways at Ron, and remembered exactly why she would do anything she had to do to never lose him again.

_

* * *

_

He'd been alright. Fine. Or close to it. He'd been happy less than twelve hours ago. _Really_ happy. And now, a few short words later, he was so hacked off he could throw something.

She wasn't going to give this up, to just drop the 'talk' and move on. Hadn't he made it clear that he wanted to just forget it?

But could he really blame her for trying again? Maybe she had a lot to say... a lot of things he didn't want to hear, he felt sure. And he had every right to refuse to hear them!

... Had he always been this edgy, this ready for a blow up?

When he stopped to think about how it was that he could go from perfectly content to furious in a heartbeat, he felt a bit crazed. She hadn't been mean, hadn't done anything really to set him off. Yet, he wanted to scream at her, or snap back. And as hard as he tried to stop himself, he knew he couldn't last...

"If you want more than shallow chitchat, better go find Harry because that's all I've got."

He inwardly cringed as he stared up through his sunglasses, waiting for her response.

"Why bother coming down here then if you're in such a pissy mood?" Hermione asked sharply. He glanced over to find her still staring forward, her chin on her hands. So, she wasn't going to even _look _at him for this fight?

_Fight? !_

Yeah, it was quickly turning into one, and not into the ones that involved shouting and resolution. This one was the type he loathed, the ones fueled by an attempt to defend themselves and simultaneously outdo the other's snappy comebacks. These were the fights that really hurt the most, that made everything so much worse in the end. But they were also the hardest ones to stop having once they'd begun.

"It's a free beach, isn't it? It doesn't belong to you. I can go wherever I want," Ron finished, his stomach in knots.

But before she could get her reply in, he realized he had more to address.

"And who's in a pissy mood? If I seem that way now, it's because you _made _me that way."

He heard her sniff roughly, and he resisted the urge to check if she was crying. These fights hardly ever ended in tears that she let him see anyhow, though he guessed she'd cry later, alone, when she didn't have to be so strong...

"No one told you to come straight over here to me. There are plenty of other places you could have gone!" She huffed as she finished speaking, still glaring resolutely away from Ron.

"You're right," he said, and he sat up.

He didn't want to leave her. In fact, as compelled as he felt by his emotions to stand and run, he took his time, hoping with all he had that she'd ask him to stay. But then that's all he'd ever wanted, to do what she asked but let her stop him. If she called him back now, even as he was digging his feet into the sand, moving further away with every step, he'd forget why he was angry, and he'd run back to her...

But he reached the stairs, and, knowing he would never be able to remain on this beach, _with _her but _without _her, he reentered the hotel, hope crushed when he knew that it was too late, that she had let him walk away.

_

* * *

_

Ron paced his empty hotel room, completely lost. He had no idea what to do now, where to go. He knew that if he tried, he could put this behind him, face her again and keep up the strange charade they were going through to remain friends...

But how had it become a charade now rather than a true relationship? Because he had come to realize that what he'd been doing, ignoring everything and simply being happy with her, was a lie. He didn't want it to be. He tried so hard to make it true, but it was all coming to a close, his resilience. It was ending, crumbling, and he was standing in the rubble even as it collapsed around him.

This was the moment when he had to make a choice, a real one, not one that he could _convince _himself was alright. It had to be final, to make sense, and to free him.

It was terrifying to think that things could so easily turn to dust, to vanish before his eyes in a puff of smoke. But if he kept this up, kept holding onto the dream of something happy, or at least neutral, he would suffocate.

Lunch. He'd eat and think it over. He needed more time...

So he left the room and headed down to the restaurant...

_

* * *

_

She saw him come in from where she sat at the back. Harry and Ginny had disappeared, thankfully, and she only hoped they weren't upstairs in her room. But seeing Ron now, she felt overwhelmed by the need to run away again.

He _had _to talk to her, to let her say what she needed to say. It had become an impasse now, and she saw no way forward or backwards... not even the ability to remain here, stuck between past and future... if he wouldn't hear her.

She watched, unbeknownst to him, as he ordered food and waited, sitting on a bench near the doors, bouncing his legs as he ran his hands through his hair.

Tears welled in the corners of her eyes as she recalled, yet again, those six little words they'd exchanged, words she now feared had been a lie all along..

_You hate me..._

_No. I don't._

Too much time passed, much too quickly, and he stood, took his food, and left.

She needed more time to think. She had to find a place to sort it all out.

It crossed her mind to run up to his room and shout, to make him hear her. The confirmation of returned feelings, what she'd been waiting for, what she'd thought she needed in order to give herself the courage to tell him what she felt for _him_, seemed ridiculous now. Pointless.

_Tell him. Make him hear you._

_Soon._

Rubbing at her eyes, she stood, held her head as high as she could muster, and headed quickly upstairs. Her room was miraculously empty, and she leaned back against the door once inside, eyes darting as her brain worked through the options... landing her where she'd started, on the only option she had.

She was going to do it.

Tonight.

_

* * *

_

The day dragged by, and Ron managed to avoid Hermione, keeping mostly to his hotel room, unconcerned with the whereabouts of Harry and Ginny, hoping they had not suspected, by Ron's absence all day, that something was up. Was this what it had come to? Avoidance? Was this how it would always be?

If he could just _tell _her...

But as much time as he gave himself to think, nothing made any more sense. In fact, his thoughts were getting more jumbled and mixed up the longer he kept them to himself, as long as he continued to pace this room alone...

Without another moment to think about his actions, he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door...

_

* * *

_

He almost ran into her in the hallway, jacket halfway on. She stopped dead, no way out now that he'd seen her, eyes on each other.

And this was her chance, as if she hadn't had a million just like it in the past, a million chances that she'd let slip by.

_Not again. Never again._

And, without a word, she took his arm and pulled, dragging him down the hall towards her room, surprised by how little he struggled, walking in step with her towards whatever came next... whatever she had planned.

But even _she _didn't know. She would see for herself, discovering it along with him.

She dropped his arm and somehow managed to unlock the door, hands shaking. She stepped inside and he followed just barely, but when she finally looked at him again, standing in front of the opened door, he almost looked as ready for this, whatever it was, as she felt.

Until he spoke.

"What are you doing?"

"We have to stop this," she breathed.

"I agree."

A shock that set her slightly off course. He never said things like that to her. He was supposed to fight this...

"You... you do?"

"Yeah," he sighed, hands in his jacket pockets.

"So what do we do?"

"You tell me. You brought me here."

She stared across the room at him, further away than she might have liked. From this distance, he could easily see all of her... though perhaps it was better that way, better than being able to read each detail of her face, her eyes, her soul...

She wanted to scream at him now, to make him hear her. But he was making it difficult, standing there waiting, accepting whatever came next.

"Alright. Now we talk."

_

* * *

_

It would be easier to disagree with her. It made a lot more sense than this. This felt too alive, too real. He had to do something.

"Give me another plan. I don't like that one."  
_  
There. Give her something to fight about. A starting point._

"But we _have _to talk, Ron! This is ridiculous!"

He paused for a moment, unable to say no yet again now that he'd managed to get her worked up. He felt a chill run up his spine. This was it. She was right, as he'd come to know today, and now, faced with this conversation, the one he could no longer avoid, he knew it could take all night...

"Alright... let's have it," and he started taking off his jacket. He rolled his shoulders, stretching as if preparing for a physical fight, and he tossed his jacket over the back of a nearby chair.

Hermione sucked in a breath and pulled her hair up roughly out of her face, securing it into a frizzy bun. She took a deep breath and let it out again.

"Ready?" she squeaked, cheeks already red.

And it felt to Ron, just then, like there was merely an invisible barrier between them, stopping them from jumping on each other... a barrier that could be broken down so easily. He had a flash, a vision, of his hands ripping her clothes off, pinning her to the bed...

_Yes, I've never been __**more **__ready...  
_  
"Shall I start?" and she crossed her trembling arms over her chest.

His vision vanished.

"Fine," he said coldly.

_Show her how angry you are..._

This was the fight he craved, the one he knew how to do... the one he knew they needed, deep down.

"First of all," Hermione began, "it was really unfair of me to just show up at the pub when I came home and expect you to be okay with me-"

"_That's _the unfair part?" Ron snapped.

She licked her lips. His eyes darted to her tongue as it slipped back inside her mouth. He wasn't getting enough oxygen to shout... and he couldn't lose this! He ripped his eyes away from her lips as she prepared her retort.

"I did a lot of unfair things, okay? I'm not saying-"

"You left for a sodding year! You never sent me a single bleeding letter!"

Oh, he was going to win. He had this.

Unless she started to cry. Oh please, please don't cry...

"You left me first!" she shouted shrilly.

_Shit._

He opened his mouth but closed it again when he realized he had absolutely nothing to say back. Not yet.

"Now you know how it feels!" she yelled at him, looking half pleased with herself.

_Hang on... _

"You know what? No. It's different," he began, suddenly confident again. "You want to know how?"

She shivered, her hair escaping from her bun in frizzy bits around her face already. He didn't need an answer from her to press on.

"When I left, I _instantly _wished I hadn't. If I had been _able _to come back to you, I would have!"

Her eyes grew shiny beneath pools of fresh tears.

"You had a choice, Hermione, and you stuck to it for a bloody year!"

"Did you ever think that you could have _stopped _me? Oh, and maybe you could have written to me as well! It's not as if you didn't know where I was!"

Ron actually managed to narrow his eyes at her. How dare she blame him for anything!

But it was only a flash of rage, a flash to be immediately replaced with guilt.

_But you shouldn't feel guilty! Tell her how much she hurt you!_

"And Harry," Hermione began, her cheeks blood red, "I gave him messages for you, told him to say 'hello' to you! I'd ask him if you ever replied, if you had anything to say back, and he always said the same thing... you were busy, you'd be fine, _you _said 'hello' too."

"I never said that," Ron spat.

Her lips trembled as she glared at him, tears threatening angrily at the corners of her eyes.

"I know that! I know! Harry lied to me! And it took me a while to be sure of it, but then I knew! You never cared that I was gone!"

"How can you say that? !" he screamed, hands tense at his sides as he shuffled his feet, furious. "Why the fuck would I even be pissed off now if I didn't care that you'd left? !"

She shook, squinted against oncoming tears, and lifted her head, a telltale sign of her last attempt at resistance... but she stepped closer to him, gaining visible courage.

It was too intimidating, too close, and he took a step back too, the door frame now on either side of him.

"Every day I was gone, Ron, every single bloody day, I wished I hadn't. But I was too afraid to face you to come home again!"

He waited, sure there was more coming. And she stepped closer yet again. He was losing his ability to think straight... One more step back, and he was standing in the hallway, her hand moving up to clutch the door as she came even closer, unable to give him the space he was trying to create between them.

"I couldn't face what I'd done, what I'd _asked _of you..." she said.

She looked so disgusted, sickened by her regrets.

"If I could take back one thing in my life, it would be... that night... I'd take it back in a second."

"I wouldn't!" he shouted, terrified the moment the words had left his mouth.

Her eyes widened and a silent tear dripped from her eye, slowly making its way down her face, finally freed.

"W-why not?" she asked, vast contrast in her tone from earlier, now soft and timid where before she had been frantic and loud.

Faced with what he'd let out, he had no choice but to back track. If she hadn't wanted that with him... But he had let her bring him in here to tell her the _truth_, the _whole _truth, as incredibly difficult as that was going to be for him. But before he had the chance to say anything else, she looked away, so close to him.

Had he given her the wrong impression, let his gaze linger too long with narrowed eyes, anger seeping from every feature? What did she think of him now?

"Don't you want to know the truth," she half-whispered, "how hard it was for me to go?"

She paused, and he watched her gather her anger again, keeping it close enough to feel. He was going to break if he didn't do something, shout back.

"Don't you think I want to understand how _you _really felt... _really_, Ron?" she yelled now, and he was back in the game.

Her eyes were still wet, but no more tears had fallen.

He could still do this.

"I don't care!" he shouted.

"Well... well..." she stuttered.

Ron held his breath, and he remained glued to his spot facing her, inches from her now... waiting for her to say something, _anything_...

"Neither do I!" she finally screamed, voice echoing down the hallway.

Without another word, she slammed the door in his face, leaving him alone with his lie in the middle of the empty hallway.

* * *

_**A/N:** Things are getting serious now! They are very, very close... so soon. Even though this chapter ends on a down note, trust me that the next one is going to be... huge ;)_


	14. The Truth, In So Many Words, Part 1

_**A/N:** If you haven't noticed, I've **changed the rating of this story to M**. Avoid this chapter if you don't want to read **serious M stuff**. I also wanted to explain the companion tracks I've been including at the top of each chapter... These are the songs that I listen to while writing the chapters. I listened to a lot of the band Kings of Convenience during the writing for this chapter, but mainly the song listed below, "I'd Rather Dance With You". Listen if you want. I think it gives a fuller experience to listen while reading, but then I'm a huge music fan in general, so there you go :) I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! Let me know what you think! And thanks so much to everyone who has been reviewing this story! It has really inspired me :)  
_

* * *

**Chapter 14: The Truth, In So Many Words (Part 1)**

_[Companion Track: Kings of Convenience - I'd Rather Dance With You (_www . youtube . com /watch?v=OczRpuGKTfY&ob=av3e_) ] - remove spaces in link_

* * *

Ron stared at the door long after she'd closed it. Finally, he backed away, turned, and sprinted back to his room.

As he slammed open the door roughly, he caught Harry's eye.

"Great," he muttered sarcastically as Harry watched him drag himself inside. "Where've you been?" Ron asked, realizing after he'd asked that he didn't really care about the answer.

Harry didn't respond. He simply watched Ron stomp through the room, tossing himself onto his made up bed.

"What's going on?" Harry finally asked.

"Oh, nothing much," Ron spat, lying on his back and covering his face with one hand.

"You're fighting with her, yeah?" Harry asked, sitting on the edge of his own bed. "Ginny'll be back to their room any minute. Is she going to walk in to find-"

But Ron let out an angry breath, uncovering his face and interrupting Harry.

"This isn't my bleeding fault!" he screamed.

Harry studied Ron for a long moment.

"She. left. me! How bloody hard is it for everyone to understand that?" Ron's fists were clenched into the bed covers on either side of his body. He let go only long enough to sit up, violently throwing a pillow across the room.

"Ron..." Harry began. Ron glared at him, daggers shooting from his eyes into Harry's. "Ron, I'm sorry..."

Ron stared back at him for a long time, waiting for the 'but' he expected. But it never came.

"You're sorry?" Ron asked, face red, still angry, but setting that aside for the sake of cautious confusion.

"Me and Ginny both, we never give you a chance, do we..."

Ron blinked, hardly believing what he was hearing. Harry sighed.

"The thing is, from where I'm standing, you left Hermione that winter-" Ron opened his mouth to fight back, but Harry pressed on, not allowing him to speak yet- "and she left you last summer. I know it was different then. I know. But she wants your forgiveness, just like you hoped for hers when you returned to us."

"Harry, you don't understand, you _or _Ginny..." Ron said slowly.

"You _want _us to understand? Well, then you have to explain it to us." Harry looked expectantly at Ron as if waiting for an answer.

"I can't..." Ron trailed off, sad to admit the truth yet again.

"Why not?" Harry inquired, looking a bit hopeless. But when Ron said nothing, Harry studied him again as he continued... "Are you asking me to trust you, to just take your word for it that this whole mess is her fault? You're my best friend, Ron, and if you ask to me believe you, I will, but-"

"It's not all her fault..." Ron interrupted, shocking Harry. "I can't tell you what happened. I can't hurt her like that. Just know that something happened that you don't know about..."

"Before she left for Australia?" Harry asked.

"...before the war was over," Ron admitted in a small voice.

Harry stared back at him, stunned.

"I didn't mean to fight with her tonight," Ron went on. "She wanted to talk, I didn't. But I let her. And once it started, I thought maybe I could..."

"Maybe you could what?" Harry asked quietly.

Frustrated, Ron ran a rough hand through his hair.

"All I wanted to do was to _finally _tell her I love her!"

Harry's eyes widened as he stared at Ron.

"Uh, you what?" Harry asked slowly.

"She kicked me out," Ron said, ignoring Harry.

"Hang on..." Harry started, trying to keep up. But Ron looked sadly over at Harry, his forehead creased.

"Why can't I ever get things right with her?"

"What happened?" Harry asked as Ron's eyes began to glisten.

"She tried to apologize, and I screamed at her." Ron gave Harry a sad grimace before pulling himself out of bed again. "I have to go back..."

"Wait!" Harry shouted, jumping to his feet.

"What?" Ron asked, tired but impatient as he turned back to face Harry again.

"Are you going to do it? Are you going to tell her now?" Harry asked, a strange look of excitement on his face.

"I don't know..." Ron admitted, feeling crushed under the wait of his own indecision.

"If she knew..." Harry trailed off, clearly trying to affect Ron with his unsaid words.

And slowly, Ron nodded to himself, backing towards the door.

"I'm going to tell her," and he wrenched open the door, stepped out into the hallway, and ran...

When he reached her door, his fist collided with it much harder than he had intended. He flinched as his heart raced, pounding a painful rhythm against his ribs.  
_  
I love you. I love you..._

_Easy._

He could do this, get it over with... and suffer the consequences. He replayed what she'd said earlier...

_If I could take back one thing in my life, it would be... that night... I'd take it back in a second._

"I wouldn't..." he whispered to no one, forehead inches from the door.

And finally, with a loud bang, Ginny's angry face appeared in the doorway, her body purposely blocking Ron's view into the room. But beyond, he could hear muffled sobs, agonizing and heart breaking. He wasn't sure he had ever heard her cry like that... not since she'd been tortured and he'd heard every scream from beneath...

His heart shattered, and any remaining ounces of anger disappeared into thin air.

He forgot why he was there...

"What do you want?" Ginny snapped.

"I..." he stammered, listening as the sobs broke, and he wondered if she was holding her breath to keep him from hearing. "I need to talk to her," Ron said, his voice monotone as he tried to get a glimpse of Hermione.

But Ginny lessened the gap between the door and the frame and narrowed her eyes.

"I need to talk to her," Ron pleaded again, looking deep into Ginny's sharp eyes.

"No," Ginny said firmly, shaking her head in disbelief. "Go to bed, Ron. Leave her alone for a while, yeah?"

"Please, Ginny," Ron begged as he listened to Hermione trying to get her breath as she desperately attempted to hide her sobs from him... he was sure now of her intentions. "Hermione!" he called out.

But Ginny pushed the door shut, giving Ron no time to force it open. He heard it lock, heard Ginny muttering silencing charms, heard Hermione's anguished sobs again the moment before everything went quiet.

"Hermione!" he screamed loudly, banging the door as he leaned his body against it.

His fault...

"Hermione, please talk to me!"

He imagined her inside, telling Ginny how horrible he was, how much he had hurt her all these years...

"Please! I'm sorry! Please..."

He rested his forehead against the door, tears in the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision of the wood grain an inch from his nose.

"I'll listen to whatever you want! I won't get angry! I'm... I'm so sorry. Hermione?"

But there were no sounds, no indication that she had heard him, and if she had, she was not keen to let him in now... if ever. So, exhausted, tears heavy in his eyes, he slid down the wall next to her door and sat there, waiting, hoping...

_

* * *

_

**June 12, 1998**

**3am**

Ron felt something gentle yet annoying against his shin and he shifted, opening his eyes. Realizing where he was, back slumped against the wall outside Hermione's room, he started fully awake and looked up...

...into the eyes of his sister.

"Oh, it's you," he croaked. He saw her foot an inch from his leg and realized she had nudged him awake.

"Don't sound so disappointed..." Ginny said lightly.

"What do you want me to sound like?" Ron asked, tired and a bit annoyed, rubbing his eyes.

Ginny sighed softly and slid down the wall next to him, sitting so close she was almost touching him. He stared over at her, confused by her lack of an argument... she had been awfully pissy with him for a while now.

"She was really upset, you know," Ginny said. "And you know she's had to come to me over the years when she gets like this... and she only gets like this because of you..."

Ginny nudged him with her shoulder and gave him a small grin, but he felt his stomach twist at her words.

"Because of me..." he sighed. So he was the prat he'd always feared he was...

"Not because you're a bad person, Ron," Ginny continued quickly. "Because you're so damn stubborn. And because she loves you..."

Ron's eyes widened, though he tried to conceal it from his sister.

"And because she doesn't know how much you love her."

"That's what I bloody well came down here to tell her..." Ron mumbled angrily, eyes on his lap.

Ginny stared at her brother, shocked.

"No, you didn't..."

"Yeah, I did," Ron said as he looked back up into her eyes again.

She took a moment to change her expression from shock and disbelief to guilt.

"Okay, maybe I was a bit harsh earlier..."

"Yeah..." Ron agreed.

"Look, Ron," Ginny began, "you have to understand that from my perspective, always being the one to find Hermione and comfort her after a row, that when you come banging up against a door while she's balling her eyes out... well, it doesn't look good!"

Ron stared back at his sister, unable to find any words worth saying.

"Were you really going to-"

"Yes," Ron sighed.

"I'm sorry." And she seemed so sincere. He couldn't help but believe her.

"Thanks," Ron said softly, looking away from her again. "Bet she's sleeping now, yeah?"

"Yeah," Ginny answered apologetically.

"Ginny, do me a favour," Ron began as he pushed himself up onto his feet.

"What?" Ginny asked as she stood next to him.

"Don't tell her about this, about our... chat... and don't tell her what I told you... I need to tell her myself."

"No problem," Ginny said with a smile.

"Thanks," Ron called as he turned away from her, heading back down the hallway, hands in his pockets.

He had no intention of sleeping any more tonight, so he turned just far enough off the main hall to make Ginny think he'd gone to bed, waiting to hear the sound of the hotel room door opening and closing before he headed towards the lifts.

He headed straight out onto the beach, sat on the warm sand, and stretched his legs out in front of him, listening to the rhythmic sound of the waves swaying in and out against the dark shore...

Dawn came and went, and the crowds began to pour out once more. Ron watched for a while, searching their faces for Hermione's, knowing in some way that he'd be damn lucky to see her at all today without making an effort. Harry and Ginny emerged moments later carrying their towels, and both gave him a wave, though Harry's was much more confused than Ginny's... probably due to the fact that Ron had not returned to their room all night...

And now, knowing that Hermione would be alone when he found her, Ron gathered all his courage and stood, turning back into the hotel lobby...

_

* * *

_

She couldn't remember the last time she'd cried so hard... Well, that wasn't exactly true. She could remember. It had been this way for some time now. It was just too hard to tell the days apart from each other at the moment.

Her eyes burned from lack of sleep and too many tears. All of her careful planning and row rehearsals had gotten her nowhere in the end. He didn't care to know the truth... probably, as she had feared before, because he already _did _know it.

But then... what had he meant when he'd said... he _wouldn't take it back_? They had to have been talking about the same night... She couldn't _possibly _write it off as a misunderstanding this time, could she?

She had to get out of the hotel, leave the beach and the crowds and her friends and just... think.

So she packed her money bag and set out for an afternoon of wandering, maybe some shopping, and the hope that she could come back with a way to fix this...

_

* * *

_

She wasn't in her room, or she wasn't answering his knock. He wasn't bold enough to try busting in on her. If she was inside and avoiding him, he'd be hexed for sure.

Fine. He'd wait right here for her so he couldn't miss her.

He sat again in a place that was becoming slowly familiar to him... right next to the door.

This was all ending. Today.

_

* * *

_

At half eight, Ron was starving and had seen no sign of Hermione. He was sure she was out now. No way she could still be inside her room. He stood, ready to knock again just to be sure she hadn't Apparated straight inside... he wasn't sure if that was even possible...

"Hermione!" he shouted wearily. "If you're in there can you please, please just open the door!"

"I'll open the door if you move out of the way," Hermione said, voice coming from directly behind him.

He jumped and turned sharply to face her, so shocked by her sudden arrival that he slid out of the way of the door, speechless. He watched as she fumbled to unlock it, opened it...

Her eyes were so red, and it was as if he could see his own marks, his own doing, across her pale strained face...

"I want you to come inside," she said, her voice shaking, but cold.

He didn't respond, simply followed her order, and she closed the door behind him.

"I'm going to say a lot of things to you right now," she said, dropping the bags she had been carrying on the floor and crossing her arms again.

He knew this. This was a row.

_Fine. Only this time, I'm not letting her end it until it's really over._

He hadn't yet responded to her, and he realized too late, once he'd lost his chance. She began to pace as she spoke.

"I did a lot of awful things to you," she began, "and I can't even ask you to forgive me anymore. But here's what I _do _want to say. I thought a lot of things that turned out not to be true. I hoped for a lot of things to get me through a lot of hard times. And now that I can see things more clearly, I know that I was wrong to do that, wrong to let it go as far as it did."

"What are you-" Ron began, totally lost, but she cut him off.

"I was wrong to ask you to k-kiss me. I was very, _very _wrong to assume that you could just stay my friend after something so... so terrible had been done to you."

Ron furrowed his eyebrows as he watched her. Did she _really _think he thought-

"And I can't tell you why the _hell _you wouldn't want to take that back!" she shouted suddenly.

"Hermione, I don't know how much more obvious I can make it! You really screwed me up when you left me! I had no idea what was going to happen, when I'd see you... if you hated me!"

He hadn't meant to get so loud, but it was always harder to turn the volume down than it was to turn it up... so he knew he was stuck here until she broke through somehow.

"Ron, if I hated you, this would be _so _easy! Look at me! Can't you see how sorry I am? How awful I feel? How much I lost?"

"What did you lose? !" he asked, stepping closer, eyes round. "I can't see that you lost a sodding thing!"

"You can't see-!" she begin, her indignation obviously overpowering her ability to complete her thought. Tears suddenly poured down her cheeks, and Ron was so thrown off by it that he bellowed his next words...

"I'm standing right here trying to fix this but I have no effing clue what you want from me!"

She sucked in a sudden breath.

"Tell me what you need from me!"

"STOP!" she screamed.

Her voice rang off of every surface. He stood frozen, breathing heavily through his mouth, speechless at her command.

"I-I let you c-come inside s-so I could tell you a story a-and I'm going to t-tell it and you're going to listen! Don't you dare interrupt me!"

Her shrill voice sliced open his heart and he nodded mutely.

She took a few ragged breaths, wringing her hands and pacing again as she began.

"When I was eleven, I got on a train and went away to start my _real _life. Pretty soon, I started to think about all the friends I could make, the ones I'd never had before because I'd been too... different. But it didn't take me long to realize that it wasn't going to be easy for me. I met two boys who I thought were quite funny, people I wanted to see more of. I couldn't explain it, why it didn't bother me so much that they never seemed to care about getting the highest marks in class or impressing their teachers. I just... _liked _them. But then one of them said something mean, something I wasn't supposed to hear..."

Ron's ears burned as he realized what she was referring to. But how did this have anything to do with-

"...and all over again, everything I feared, that I was too different, that I would never have friends, that no one would like me... it all came back, and I felt so crushed. Until they saved my life. And you really can't save someone's life without trying..."

Ron felt a little flutter inside his stomach at the way a tiny smile broke through her tears for a fraction of a second before she continued.

"So we were friends. Finally, I had real friends. I wrote to them, we had adventures together... we almost _died _together. But then, one day, there was this great announcement... a Ball."

Ron's stomach jumped again, uncomfortably this time.

"I started hoping that one of my friends would ask me... and not just either of them. One. In particular. And I kept ignoring the fact that this was odd, that I was singling him out as the one I wanted... until he actually asked me to the Ball."

Now Ron was confused, thinking hard to remember-

"But he did it like it was a joke, like he was taking just... anyone... just to have someone."

It rushed back to Ron, and he felt a wave of nauseous guilt...

"I was so angry, that he could want to go with me _that _way. And that was when it really hit me... I wanted him to _want _to go with me, only me, and not because he couldn't find anyone else."

Ron swallowed, realizing that the familiar lump in his throat was back. And his heart was beating relentlessly now, loud and echoing inside his own ears.

"So, I admitted it to myself. I fancied him. I really, really..." She paused, trying to catch her breath without looking directly at Ron.

He was holding his own breath... waiting.

"And then, _then_, before I knew it... he was dating my bloody roommate."  
_  
Sodding Lavender..._

"And it was like he'd hit me in the face, told me I was worthless to him. I thought he understood, that he had guessed, that I had been clear enough with my intentions..."

Ron remembered her words to him, the exact ones she'd spoken, asking him to Slughorn's Christmas party... the most amazing moment-

"And t-then... _then_... he was dying. And I forgot all about our row. I needed him to know I wasn't angry anymore. If he had died before I'd been able to t-tell him..."

Ron felt tears welling in the corners of his own eyes as he listened. He desperately wanted to say something, to tell her how sorry he was, to shout how much he loved her now. But he remembered... she hadn't yet reached the end of her story. There was more to come, more that could change everything. And she'd asked him not to interrupt her...

"When he lived, when he recovered, I promised I would never let anything like that come between us again. We left together to help our best friend, and for a while, I thought things were going right between us. I thought... maybe... _maybe _I could see some of what I felt for him... coming back to me. But then... he left. He ran away from me, from everything I had hoped for. And I knew right then how wrong I'd been. He was a close friend, a very wonderful friend, but that was all."

_No! That wasn't all!_

Ron wanted to scream and correct her, but he bit his tongue to keep from interrupting. It was becoming nearly impossible not to, but he was going to try his best...

"And then it hit me, after I'd almost lost my life in that terrible place..."

Ron knew by the way she shuddered out her words that she was referring to Malfoy Manor... He felt his own rage resurface, the overwhelming desire to burn the sodding place to the ground...

"...it hit me that if I died, I would have lost out on the thing I had been holding my breath for... waiting for... since I had first discovered, that one lonely night before the Ball, how good it could be if I let myself believe. I only ever wanted him... I couldn't ever even imagine it any other way. I spent days trying to talk myself out of it, out of telling him or asking him for something that I knew he didn't feel back. It would be unfair, horribly unfair."

Ron was actually shaking as he tried to keep himself from speaking...

"But in the end, my selfish, fearful desires won as soon as I looked into his eyes. And so, I asked him for the one thing I needed before my own death could ever hope to be a peaceful one... And the moment it was over, I knew that by merely asking him not to change a thing between us, I had _not _succeeded in getting what I wanted without having to suffer the consequences."

Ron was taking shallow breaths through his nose, hands clenched into fists by his sides...

"So, rather than face what I'd done - putting an end to the greatest friendship I'd ever had - I left. If I couldn't see him, then maybe I didn't have to remember what I'd done. I could try to forget, and when I came home one day, we could start over like strangers, rebuild a new friendship. Every single night I cried for what I had done. I had taken the best thing in my life and thrown it away."

Ron silently begged her to look at him, to at least see what he felt in his eyes the way he knew she could...

"I..." she whispered, coming to a stand still in front of him, eyes cast down... "I loved him."

Ron felt his tears slip free. It was his turn now! When was she going to finally let him speak?

"So much," she continued. "I _really _loved him."

Past tense.

He felt a weight drop into his stomach as he waited for her to tell him she was done. But she didn't. She simply stood there, completely frozen, arms around her own body, blinking at the carpet.

He had had so many things to say to her before. But now that he was sitting here, now that his turn appeared to be up, he could only form one coherent thought...

"You know, everything you just said is wrong," Ron said hoarsely. "The person you thought you knew... I don't think you really knew him like you think you did. I don't think you know, but his story would sound a whole lot like yours." He paused for a second, eyes finally meeting hers. "And you didn't finish," Ron added. "There's one thing left for you to say."

She stared at him finally, motionless, eyes full of tears.

And he took a chance.

He stood from his chair.

"It's okay," he said. "You can find me when you want to finish."

He needed her to tell him, to say the words to him, the ones he longed to hear like his lungs longed for oxygen. So he turned his back on her, opened the door, and stepped out into the hallway. He'd wait as long as it took for her to understand.

_What the hell are you doing? !_

He closed the door with a soft click, but he couldn't move.

_What if she doesn't get it? You really didn't explain-_

With a sudden rush, the door burst open again, and before he could speak, she had flown at him, slamming him against the opposite wall. He supported her weight effortlessly off the floor as her lips crashed down on his. Her tongue slid between his lips and he felt a rumble in the back of his own throat, involuntarily moaning as she cupped his face with her hands.

She separated her lips from his, and the gust of cold air over his wet lips gave him goosebumps. Her feet hit the floor again, though his arms remained around her, trembling.

"And I still love him," she breathed. "I always have."

Every piece of his life slid into place and locked with a reverberating bang.

_Fucking perfect._

For the briefest moment, she looked terrified of what she'd said and done, breathing hotly through her mouth as her round eyes seared into his.

But Ron grinned wider than ever, and at top speed, he pushed her back into her room, ducking his head to capture her lips again mid walk. His hands shook down her sides as he shut the door behind them with a swift backwards kick.

Their lips parted as Ron toed off his shoes and, out of breath, his grin still firmly in place, he gazed down at her.

"Who is this git?" he asked. "I want to kick his arse."

She laughed, releasing so much built up tension as she wound her arms under his jacket, hands firmly against his back, separated by a thin white cotton t-shirt and nothing more. Leaning up on her tiptoes, her mouth found his again, and he moaned as he closed his eyes, hands in her hair.

But then she parted from him again.

"Wait," she said, pushing him back. She stared up at him, eyes shining... lost.

His heart raced as he stared down at her.

And it happened again, that moment when his first instinct, first guess as to what she was thinking, proved immediately to be, in his own mind, the most illogical thing. He never entertained a second thought that what he dared to hope was a possibility, but she had shown him how wrong he'd been all these years, how misguided.

This time... what if she _was _thinking the most illogical thing? What if he had had those two words backwards all this time, reversed? Logical... illogical...  
_  
She doesn't know that you love her back._

"Don't worry," he said, eyes locked with hers. "I love you more than anything."

A thick breath of relief, a whimper, and she grabbed him again, pulled his head down to hers, a challenge considering their height difference. Her hands were everywhere, and he tried to peel off his jacket while still kissing her, a task that proved quite difficult. It wasn't until she sucked her lips away from his again that he realized how far his crazed excitement had led him, ready to throw her down on the bed if she wanted him.

"Do you want... I mean... are we going to..." he stammered.

Hermione giggled nervously, _beautifully... _and she helped him rip his jacket off, tossing it to the floor. Her cheeks had turned a very deep shade of red.

"I love you," they sighed at the same time, noses crashing together and causing them to laugh loudly as their lips sealed together once more, two perfect smiles aligned.

As his lips left hers to drag opened mouthed kisses up her cheek, he tasted salt from her tears earlier and was struck hard with another weight in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm sorry... so sorry..." he said as she tugged the back of his neck, hauling his mouth back across her tender skin to her lips.

Her tongue plunged back inside his mouth and swirled around with his, dancing as he felt his legs weaken. He hadn't realized he was pushing her back until he could no longer move in the direction he had apparently been going. He separated from her lips to look down, spotting the obstruction that prevented him from continuing to move forward... the backs of her legs were pressed tight to the end of the bed.

"You know I care," Ron whispered, thinking about the night before, the horrible way that their row had ended. "Bloody hell, I care _so _much..."

"You lied to me..." she mumbled, eyes fixed on his.

"But you lied to me too..." He waited for confirmation, heart pounding.

"I sure did..."

Hearing her admit it caused his heart to soar high out of his chest, hovering above the mattress in front of him... behind her. And as he leaned in to kiss her again, she toppled back into the bed, drawing him down with her, tumbling on top of her and regaining his balance with his hands on either side of her. His hungry lips devoured hers as she scooted up towards the top of the bed, neither of them willing to let the other go to make the effort of moving where they wanted to end up a lot easier...

"Hermione," he said between wet kisses, his quivering body on top of hers, supported off of her for now.

"Mmmm..." she moaned up at him, eyes glazed with passion and desire.

"Why the _hell _did you tell me you didn't want anything to change? !" he asked, one palm against the side of her face, the other hand supporting his weight off the mattress, off of her.

"B-because I thought you didn't love me, and the _only _change we could have would be to not even be friends anymore..."

Ron froze, fear coursing through him. Had a misunderstanding this crucial been the reason for everything? ! He had to know, as much as the answer could crush him...

"If I had said, 'no bloody way, things _are _going to change because I'm in love with you and now we're going to be lovers instead of just friends,' what would you have said?"

He waited, motionless above her, eyes wide and heart pounding, for her answer.

"I... I would have said... promise me... _everything _changes..." she whispered, bottom lip trembling.

"Fuck!" he screamed, fist clenching tight in the blanket at Hermione's side. His left palm shook against the soft skin of her cheek, and he had to withdraw it, anger and regret building.

"I'm sorry, Ron!" Hermione wailed. "I'm so-so... so sorry!" She began sobbing below him, eyes scrunched half closed as she watched him recoil slightly, horrified, but still balancing his weight above her. "P-please don't leave! Don't go..."

His eyes flashed down to hers again and he held her gaze, mesmerized and totally stunned at the same time. Did she really think he could leave her now? !

"You want me to stay?" he asked somewhat rhetorically after her last terrified plea, but she nodded anyway, tears gushing down her cheeks. "Then I'll _never _go anywhere."

She whimpered her complete relief at his words.

One ridiculous mistake had cost them over a year together. And he wasn't going to waste another second.

"Promise me," he whispered huskily as he lowered his body fully over her now, undershirt clad torso coming into painfully light contact with hers... "_everything _changes."

"I promise," she cried, and he sucked her bottom lip between his, tongue dashing out to run over her lip as she whimpered again.

He moved up an inch and meshed their mouths together, lips and tongues and hot breath merging between the new formation of their two mouths united. And he sank down onto her, finally feeling her below him as he had only been able to in his dreams for over a year, their one brief time together so marred with pain and sorrow that it had been difficult to recall those feelings as the perfection that he knew they must have been.

Her cold hands slipped under his shirt, and he gasped and jolted slightly, tugging his lips away from hers for a brief second. Her hands moved up, up... covering his skin in light caresses, too fast to comprehend every new touch.

He leaned up enough to work his shirt up his body, struggling comically to remove it completely. He felt her hands helping him as his head disappeared inside the shirt. And as he resurfaced, his hair grew wild and chaotic, though Hermione seemed to like it just fine. She bit her lip as her hand tickled up his neck, goosebumps forming as she weaved her hand into his thick, shaggy ginger hair.

And where was her other hand?

Ron gasped loudly this time as her cool fingertips traced a circle around his nipple.

It was past time to make them even, and his fingers dipped beneath the thin cotton bottom hem of her delicate pink t-shirt, eliciting a response quite similar to his own from earlier as he touched her, moving his hand up slowly, agonizingly, over her flat, warm stomach.

She moaned shakily as his fingers teased the bottom edge of her bra suddenly. He hadn't realized he'd been anywhere near that far up until it was happening. His hand seized up at the glorious combination of what he felt and what he heard coming from Hermione's beautiful mouth, her lips still parted and swollen from their kisses.

Slowly, Hermione's right foot moved out from under Ron's leg, sliding up and over the back of his knee, pulling the bottom edge of his jeans up as she did so, exposing most of his calf. Suddenly, she was shimmying down the mattress inch by inch, still buried beneath Ron. He felt her shirt riding up as she went, followed by a hot, wet kiss right in the center of his chest. His skin could have literally melted off at the pleasure he felt radiating from her kiss straight through to his heart.

His hand slipped out of her shirt now, unable to keep up with where she was going, his body frozen here in place over her as he waited to see what she was up to. Her hair tickled his chin, his neck as she moved down even further. And then, her arms extended above her, pulling with them... her shirt! She reappeared slowly, sliding back up to the pillow, face moving into full view of Ron's again.

She looked so shy all of a sudden, timid as she reached up to wrap her arms around his shoulders, drawing him flat down on top of her again as her lips pressed hard against his. And, immediately, his whole upper body tingled as if a new, untouched layer of skin had formed just before Hermione's bare stomach and shoulders had come into contact with it. It hadn't felt quite like this before, nerves on alert for a whole different reason... fearing it would be the only time, his only chance. But now, her nails raked through his chest hair and he dipped his head to her neck, sucking until she was holding his head in place with her hand twisted deep into his hair.

As he lifted his mouth to hers again, he wondered if she could feel how much she was affecting him. His tongue ran between her lips, then through them. He felt her shivering beneath him, her warm body pressed so tightly to his that no air would even be able to make it between them. Head spinning, his teeth bit down gently on her bottom lip for a moment before he pulled back to take a breath. She took the opportunity to lean up off the pillow and kiss his neck. His arms gave out slightly, pushing his body further down on top of Hermione, forcing her tighter against him and deeper into the mattress.

His index finger found her belt loop and hooked into it, desperately trying not to tug, though he wanted her jeans to come off. Now. He wasn't even aware that she knew what he was doing, but she must have been because she moved her hips up hard against his immediately, right leg siding up his left again and locking over his thigh.

They were too tightly wound together to remove any more clothes, a problem that had to be solved, though Ron didn't want to solve it by having to move... He saw no other choice though, and as Hermione's lips moved up his jaw to his mouth again, he forced his right arm under her body, his sensitive skin coming into contact with her bare back... and he flipped them fluidly, Hermione now on top of him, her legs on either side of his. Shocked by the sudden movement, she gasped and sat up slightly onto her hands and knees, straddling him.

Panting, amazed with the position he had set up inadvertently, Ron's hands dug firmly into her hips. No denying she felt everything now, knew what she had done to him.

"Love... you..." he managed to say between breaths.

His heart pounded wildly as he stared up into her eyes, lowered his eyes to her neck, her chest, her belly button hidden in shadow between their bodies ... All that stood between his skin and her completely naked top half was her incredibly sexy white bra... It was simple cotton, why was it so sexy? He had no idea, but he didn't care. It needed to be on the floor where their shirts had probably fallen by now.

"I love _you_," she breathed, eyes glistening again as she sat all the way up onto her knees now, giving him a perfect view.

His hands remained firmly planted on her denim clad hips, thumbs brushing against perfectly smooth skin. She reached behind her back, trembling furiously. He swallowed as he watched her, unable to speak, think... breathe.

"Are you sure you want to?" she asked in a tiny, shy voice, hands frozen behind her back. "I'm not rushing you, am I?"

"Hermione," he sighed happily, far too aware of her thighs clenching his hips now, "can't you tell how sure I am?"

She blushed immediately and looked away from his eyes as she unfastened her bra... allowing it to drop down... onto his stomach.

He made a sound as if strangled, fingers digging into her skin as he moved his hands up her sides, stopping just before her ribcage. She leaned down into his touch, goosebump covered skin sliding under his hands. She was trembling violently, his fingers inching up towards her breasts with each passing second as she lowered her body so slowly over him again. Her eyes darted sporadically, never looking straight back into his.

"Are you afraid?" he whispered, thumbs coming into contact with a definite swell of her chest as she hovered in place, hands resting on either side of his head.

"Only of how much I... want..."

He placed a hand on her cheek and immediately felt her blush, burning skin against his.

"I never told you before, I was afraid to say something you didn't want me to say..." Ron said, and her curiosity got the better of her as she looked into his eyes. Finally. "You are _so_... _so beautiful_."

He lowered his hand to her shoulder just as she let out a squeak of happy surprise, slamming down against his body and kissing him. The sudden contact between their naked upper bodies caused both to moan into each other's mouths. Ron's hands moved down her sides again, stopping next to her breast where they were pressed to his chest. But from this position, his elbows dug into the mattress as he attempted to feel something... He opted instead of wrapping his arms back around her so tightly again that his fingers skimmed her sides once again... and without realizing it, he was suddenly touching the edges of her breasts, right where they pressed against his own skin. His fingers explored the way her breasts were compressed against his chest, and he nearly shouted into Hermione's mouth involuntarily.

She lifted her head, removing her lips from his to suck in air, and his hands slipped away slightly. Urgent desire flowed between them, Hermione looking as affected by his touch as he was. She sat up again so quickly, his arms dropped off her... and his eyes landed on her naked chest.

"_Fuck_, Hermione..." he moaned.

She giggled, and he realized he had pretty much just announced what he was about to do. He grinned and laughed, feeling weightless all of a sudden.

And then she jumped up off him, standing on the bed next to him. He found that his eyes would not remove themselves from her breasts as she hopped. He felt dizzy and overwhelmed by the sight he was being offered. And then he realized why she had gotten up so quickly. Her quivering hands were on the button of her jeans. His eyes widened as they finally lowered to watch her hands setting to work. He had to get the rest of his clothes off. They were much too tight, much too obstructive...

So, struck with the idea that he could make quicker work of this if he joined her in her stripping, he stood on the bed too and tore open his jeans button, not even pausing to consider the fact that he was sure he had actually ripped something... He pulled the zipper down most of the way, but was wriggling his jeans off his hips without consideration for whether or not he was damaging his clothing in his haste. The wonderful, glorious sound of hermione's nervous laughter filled the air, and he joined her as he watched her standing on one foot, trying to balance as she pulled her jeans off completed, one leg at a time.

He froze completely in the midst of his stripping, jeans at his knees, as he took in the sight of Hermione standing feet from him in only her knickers. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other to balance on the mattress, and, cheeks flushed deeply, she walked towards him, a tiny little shy smile on her face. Her hands covered his and helped him pull his jeans the rest of the way off.

He couldn't even smile, laugh, speak... She was giggling erratically, eyes on his chest to avoid looking into his eyes. And then her hands were on her knickers, and she bit her lip.

"Wait," he managed to say hoarsely.

He wrapped his hand around her neck, and he dipped his head to kiss her deeply. When he pulled back again, his hands were on her hips, and hers were on his. And at the same moment, they began pulling down the last remaining barriers between them. It became comical and ridiculous when they reached each other's knees, bending awkwardly to continue working at the same pace. Ron found his back against the wall behind the bed, and he laughed as Hermione, frustrated with the slowed pace of their work, abandoned his boxers and tore her knickers off, throwing them over her shoulder.

Now he looked, finally.

There were not words to describe what he saw. He had called her beautiful, he had fantasized about her from long before their first night together. He had imagined all the things he could say to her to make her understand how much he loved her, worshiped her. None of it mattered. There was no way she would ever understand it, how every word he knew failed to explain his desire, love... and absolute awe.

_Luckiest man alive._

"I've just gone through every word I know," Ron choked, "and none of them are anywhere close to good enough."

She met his eyes and held his gaze for seconds, though it could have been forever. His chest constricted, unable to accept oxygen.

It was too much.

He ripped his boxers off, tossed them over Hermione's head, and they met in the middle, throwing themselves together. Ron tugged her down as his lips sucked her tongue into his mouth again. They dropped to their knees together, and Ron tilted them sideways, lightly tumbling onto the bed in the wrong direction, half his legs dangling off the side.

As he rolled on top of her, she moaned and separated her lips from his for long enough to mutter...

"Spell..."

Instantly understanding her, he tore his body away from hers and began eyeing the floor around the bed for his jeans. The mattress bounced and he glanced over to see Hermione correcting their sideways position on the bed, her head now bumping around on the pillow to get comfortable. Resisting the powerful urge to simply forget about the spell and pounce on her, he leapt from the bed and crawled around the edge, finally finding his jeans and removing his wand from the back pocket. He pulled himself up onto the bed again and aimed his wand at her stomach. He performed the spell with no difficulty this time.

"Been practicing?" Hermione asked with a little smile.

"No. I could never forget after..." he trailed off.

Sensing that she was on the verge of tears again, he tossed his wand aside and covered her body with his own.

"No more past, yeah?" he said, kissing the corner of her mouth. "This is what's happening, right now. It doesn't matter what came before."

She nodded and wrapped a leg around his again, hand in his hair. She didn't need to coax him back down to her this time. He knew exactly what she wanted. He dropped his head and kissed her, gently at first, but it took mere seconds to turn into much more. Both of her legs moved out from under him, his tongue plunged into her hot mouth, and she squeezed him as she moaned. A rumble began in his chest and vibrated inside his mouth as he felt her legs move higher, higher...

He had wanted to go slow, to feel every little thing, but now he realized... they had all the time they wanted. They could take it slow later. Right now, he needed her, and as he felt her press her hips up against his again, he knew she needed him just as badly.

He pulled away from her lips long enough to look into her eyes. He didn't need to ask her if she was ready. He could see it... and feel it. She was clinging to him, nails digging slightly into the skin of his back. She tightened her legs around his waist once more... and he dropped down fully onto her, gasping sharply at the same moment that she let out a surprised squeak.

He remembered this feeling so well, had dreamt of it every single bloody night. But this time, there was something so much more... He could not recall, from the first time, the complete shattering he felt of all of his brain functions, the room spinning as tiny explosions erupted from his heart to melt down to his toes.

_Because you know she loves you._

It was a very clear, very sudden understanding. He had been afraid before, uncertain. Now, he wanted nothing more than to show her everything he felt, if it was possible to show something so vast through an act.

Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes and he wiped them away quickly, still moving slowly, but speeding up as she clenched her legs even tighter, moving them up to just above his hips.

"Ron..." she moaned, and he was nearly done for already.

"Good?" he asked through a shiver, laughing at his own silly question, lips brushing over hers.

"Yessss," she hissed through her teeth as she opened her mouth to his again.

He did not hesitate, sucking and lightly biting her lips. He moved down her neck, making it slightly harder to keep up his pace, especially as he licked her collar bone and viewed her breasts again. Feeling sorry for his neglect, laughing against her skin at his own thought, he slipped down even lower, almost completely unable to continue making love to her as his open mouth dragged across her skin, down until he was an inch from her nipple. Her hands tightened in his hair...

"Ron..." she shivered, and he could wait no longer.

His tongue flicked out, lips following quickly to suck gently. Her whole body quaked underneath him, and he was overcome with how much power he had in that moment, knowing that every move and sound she made was just as powerful over him. Quickly, his hand dashed down to her other breast, pinching her nipple between his fingers.

"Please..." she breathed, arching her back into him.

He sucked hard, and she dug her nails a bit painfully into his scalp, but his eyes fluttered shut at the feeling anyway, somehow loving its intensity. Finally, as he realized how much she was struggling over her own lack of control beneath him, he released her breasts and climbed back up to her lips, crushing her mouth at the same moment that he slammed back into her.

"Oh my God!" she cried, eyes clamping shut for a second before opening again to stare steadily back into his.

He tried to maintain his current intensity, but it was becoming next to impossible to hold out much longer at this rate. She was staring into his eyes, and he could see everything she felt as if she was telling him now.

_She loves you. The most beautiful, perfect girl in the world is in. love. with. you._

And it was all over. He couldn't hold on for another millisecond.

She tightened her muscles as he felt the world spin faster. Her eyes widened so slightly, he might not have noticed if his own eyes hadn't been so tightly locked with hers. She let out a shuddering breath as his arms shook furiously in their attempt to hold his full body weight at least slightly off of her.

"Uhhh..." was all he could muster up as he rolled off of her onto his back. He gathered her against his side, her head now resting on his shoulder.

She breathed out again, an unsteady sigh.

"Ron," she said as she breathed out once more.

"mmmmm..."

His body was still shivering in the aftermath...

"Good?" she teased, grinning. He looked over at her and laughed.

"No," he said, pressing his forehead to hers. "Bloody perfect."


	15. The Truth, In So Many Words, Part 2

_**A/N:** Another smutty chapter! Couldn't help it... I just wanted to say that while Ron goes a bit further into the 'emotional' side than is probably realistic, remember that he has been through a lot, had a lot of time to mull all this over inside his own head... and that has changed him. It will be addressed in the next chapter and our usual Ron will start to return after this. They are still 'stitching' each other up, and therefore, he's still acting a bit different than his true self in an effort to even remember who he was before. Besides, he finally has his girl! He's going to be a little silly over her at first... ;)_

_Also, my apologies for the long wait on this chapter! I will be gone for a week so there will be another delay, but when I return, I will try to focus more time on this again!_

_ALSO, did anyone else think that they were dreaming up the perfection that was Deathly Hallows Part 1? ? *faints*  
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**Chapter 15: The Truth, In So Many Words (Part 2)**

_[Companion Track: Temper Trap - Sweet Disposition (_http : / www . youtube . com/watch?v=Tafqnb5fsK8_) ] - remove spaces in link_

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She felt each breath he took, his shoulder moving slightly under her head as his bare chest rose and fell. She couldn't draw her eyes away from him... the light ginger hairs across his chest, the freckles on the top of his arm where it was bent across his body, hand on her bare back, the vague ginger stubble she could now see if she looked closely. And she remembered feeling it now that she thought about it, slightly rough against her smooth skin as he'd kissed her passionately.

She was a beautiful kind of sore, like coming home from a tiresome trip only to discover you've got all day to sleep it off, lazy and relaxed.

And now, she wanted things. And she had no reason not to go for them.

_No more holding back..._

She stretched against him so her nose rubbed up his cheek, feeling his stubble as she closed her eyes. She felt him vibrate with soft laughter beneath her. He rubbed his cheek back against her nose as she opened her eyes, grinning.

He turned his head, smiling drunkenly, and he looked into her eyes.

"I should tell you _my _story now," he said lazily.

"Does it really sound like mine?" she half whispered, remembering his words from earlier, the words she'd had to decode quickly in order to catch him in the hallway... to end up where they were now.

"A bit," he said, touching his nose to hers. "You wanna hear it?"

"Mmm..." she sighed.

"Want the long version or the summary?"

"Tell me everything," she whispered.

"Okay." He touched his lips just barely to hers... "Shhh..."

She laughed and snuggled closer, emitting little puffs of air against the ginger hair under his arm. And she breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with his beautiful scent. She was being so obvious and was sure he noticed. She actually felt his temperature rise and was sure his neck had not been quite so red a moment ago...

He cleared his throat lightly, and began...

"There once was a boy with orange hair-" Hermione giggled and he grinned "-who lived in an orange room. And one day he got on a red train to go to a wonderful castle to study magic."

She snuggled her naked body up against his, tilting her head so she could watch his lips move as he spoke, his eyes on the ceiling above them. She felt so young again, despite their very adult situation, as he told her his story, _feeling _every word he spoke through the rumble of his chest where her palm was now pressed flat.

"On the train," he went on, "he met this mental little girl... and he wasn't sure what to think of her."

Hermione was on the verge of speaking when she remembered her demand of him earlier when she'd had her turn... and his lips against hers moments ago reminding her to be quiet now and listen. This was _his _turn.

"This boy..." Ron continued, "he had a lot of siblings and was always getting picked on, so... he had developed a relatively annoying habit of saying things without thinking..."

Ron slid his right hand from Hermione's back to her left hand where it was still pressed flat to his chest. He covered her hand and ran his fingers lightly up and down hers. Her eyes fluttered shut automatically and she sighed lightly against him...

"He didn't really mean to hurt her feelings, but he did. And when he realized what he'd done, he felt bad about it... bad enough to barge into a girl's toilet without knocking and bang up a troll so she wouldn't get hurt... again."

Hermione smiled wide against his shoulder, opening her eyes to watch his lips move again, catching his tongue dart out to lick his lips the moment her eyes focused. She felt a pleasurable shock through her lower abdomen and resisted the urge to sigh audibly...

"He couldn't believe it when she lied to cover up for him and his friend, for them being where they weren't supposed to be... and after that Halloween, the three of them just sort of... stuck together."

She moved her hand out from under his to reach over to his other side and squeeze, bringing their bodies tighter together. Ron grinned and resumed his earlier position with _both _arms around Hermione, squeezing her tightly in return.

"A year passed... and for the first time, he really considered what it would be like if he lost her."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, staring resolutely at his stomach, trying to figure out what-

"She was frozen, like a corpse, and he came to visit her all the time to be sure she was going to be alright. She could have died. He was lucky, he reminded himself. He hadn't lost her. _She _was lucky her heart was still beating..."

Ron breathed out sharply, and it took Hermione a moment to realize that her head had dropped further across his chest, putting her hair in a very awkward place... right up against his mouth.

"Sorry," she whispered as she smiled sadly and moved her head back to his shoulder.

He shook his head, smiling as he turned an inch in her direction and kissed her forehead, but he didn't move back away once his lips had left her skin. He remained so close that she could feel his warm breath on her forehead as he continued to speak.

"Anyway... somehow, when she finally woke up, he felt even closer to her... until the next year began. She got this ruddy _cat_... a ginger cat. And he couldn't stop himself from hating it... and hating that she'd bought it... and..."

Ron paused, and Hermione was sure she could see his neck redden another degree.

"...and he felt replaced. By a bloody cat. And, truthfully, the fact that it was a sodding _ginger_ cat was probably the worst thing about it."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but she remembered once again that she wasn't allowed to speak, and she bit her tongue, eyes beginning to burn already...

"And when he thought _his _rat had been killed by _her _cat... it felt like she'd won. Everything."

It was all making sense to Hermione in a way she hadn't considered before, but she struggled not to speak...

"But then, he found his rat, everything went to hell, and I guess they made up... until the next year rolled around."

Hermione squirmed slightly in Ron's arms, a chill running through her. She wanted to cover herself with a blanket... _or Ron's t-shirt_... but she didn't want to move to collect either.

She shivered again and Ron moved instinctively, sitting up and causing her to fall off of him onto her side. She now felt especially exposed and chilled, but he gathered the blanket from under his own body and she moved to help him finally when she realized she'd _have _to in order to slide under with him. She felt his eyes on her as she slipped under the covers, and he joined her again, arms around her in a second, tugging the blanket up over her shoulders. She rested her head in that place against his shoulder that was becoming all too familiar now, and so perfectly comfortable.

"Better?" he asked, and she nodded, tilting her head to meet his eyes as he turned to look at her.

She paused to marvel in the fact that he knew exactly what she needed without ever having to ask. His right hand lifted from her back to play with a bit of her hair near her cheek, and he smiled in such a beautiful way, so obviously affected by his love. It nearly made her heart stop.

"Where was I?" he whispered.

"Fourth year," she sighed, eyes still locked with his.

"Mm, right," he said, touching his finger to her lips. "Ready? Comfortable?"

She nodded, smiling against his index finger.

"Good," and he pulled his finger away, hand weaving absentmindedly through her hair as he continued his story, still looking into her eyes. "There was a tournament at school... and he wanted to enter. He didn't even realize he wanted it until his best mate entered first... Well, his best mate _didn't_ enter, as it turned out. But the boy sure did spend a lot of his time worrying about _that _when he should have been noticing... other things..."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows as Ron's cheeks flushed, and he finally looked away from her, facing the ceiling again, hand sliding out of her hair to rest on his own chest, buried under the covers.

"There was this Ball, got announced to his class, and he thought it was a bit mental. But he had to find a date because that's what everyone else was doing. He had no desire to stand out even more than he already did or to give his brothers even more fuel... So, he started his search. His best mate searched with him."

Hermione couldn't take it anymore, Ron's hand sitting there against his chest, waiting to be held, so she stretched her arm across him again and took his hand gently. He responded by smiling happily and squeezing, lacing his fingers into hers.

"And then he was just sitting there thinking, wondering what he was going to do... still without a date... when he saw _her_. And he had what he _thought _was a bloody _brilliant _plan - ask her to go with _him_! Easy. So he did."

Ron began to trace light circles with his thumb over Hermione's.

"...but then she said she was already going with someone. And he realized... 'hey, she really _is_ a girl! And she's pretty... And she smells nice... And I like the way she writes... And I like the way she bites her lip when she writes... Shit, I think I fancy her!'"

Hermione laughed as the tears she'd felt slowly making their way to existence vanished in a haze of giddiness. Ron laughed too, and she was beginning to fall in love with the rumble of his body against her cheek... as if there was anything about him that she wasn't already in helpless love with...

"So," Ron continued, still chuckling, "he was right pissed off when she turned out to be telling the truth, that she really _did _have someone to go with, someone who'd asked her because he wanted _her _and wasn't just looking for _anyone _to go with... Not to mention the fact that this bloke happened to be the boy's bloody hero! And he was slowly starting to remember the lesson he'd learned two years before... that he _could _lose her."

Hermione felt her lips tremble at all Ron was admitting now. She had hoped long ago, guessed that perhaps he'd fancied her way back, that what she had felt had been returned in some small, timid way... but hearing how deep it all ran, listening to his beautiful voice tell her that all she'd imagined and dreamed - _discounted _even, eventually - was _real_...

"Then, his first real thought about her... _snogging _someone... started to sort of form... He had these weird moments where he'd torture himself with an image of her and this famous bloke - the one who somehow ended up with all the things the boy wanted for himself - and they'd be standing in an archway or behind a tapestry, and he'd see her in a way he hadn't ever really seen her in his _real _life... _kissing _someone. And what if she went with this _git _over the summer, took his invitation to go to Bulgaria? The fact that she avoided the topic altogether convinced him she had something to hide."

Hermione's heart beat furiously against Ron's side. She wondered if he could feel it...

"But then she spent the summer with _him _instead. He could write it off as necessary for her safety, so he couldn't place too much importance on her choice. Besides, he was becoming more and more convinced that she didn't really respect him or think he was worth much..."

Now Hermione had to actually clamp her mouth shut not to protest...

"He got his Prefect badge and she was shocked, like he was the last one she would expect to be worthy... or maybe the last person she'd want to have to partner with, considering she - as expected - got the other badge for our year... "

Hermione made a strangled squeak in her attempt to quell her impulse to shout. Ron looked over at her again for a moment, a small smile so she'd know it was okay, that she didn't need to explain. But she wanted to explain everything anyway... desperately.

"But, then, he realized something incredible... every time they had a meeting together or had to patrol, he got her all to himself. It might have been the first time he realized he could be jealous in that way of his other best mate, and he started to crave the time he'd spend with _her... _away from _him_. He felt guilty about it when he'd think it through, but in the moment, he was bloody proud of himself. Maybe it felt like he'd won something finally..."

Hermione could feel his heartbeat now, fast and steady against her hand, and she began to absently run her fingers through his chest hair, his hand still covering hers and moving with her. She was delighted to watch the goosebumps form wherever she touched his skin. When he spoke again, it was with more difficulty and breathlessness...

"Then... he failed to protect her, and he had this instinct now that made him feel even worse... it was his job to make sure she was safe, whether or not she knew he felt this way. He'd done a piss poor job in the Department of Mysteries, and not just for her... as a friend to everyone he'd been with as well."

Hermione could sense his mounting pain like it was happening to her and him together... all over again right here.

"Then..."

Hermione felt Ron's muscles tense up, could see them move under his pale skin. It was mesmerizing.

"...he totally fucked up."

Hermione felt her lips twitch, and she kicked herself mentally for getting so giddy at the sound of his harsh swearing. It was becoming a strange, unexpected pattern... he'd swear and she'd melt a little... and he was getting even looser with it around her. And she loved it.

"He let his temper take over, screamed at his sister, and as a result, he got a totally unexpected verbal punch thrown at him when his sister told him that _his _friend had snogged his ex-hero, the one he'd envisioned with her already, yeah, but hearing that it was _true_..."

Ron stopped and swallowed, and Hermione watched his neck bob, his head adjusting on the pillow uncomfortably. She had known about this - Ginny had told her - but it was so difficult to hear _Ron _tell her finally. She had wondered from the beginning of his story tonight if he'd divulge what he'd heard, what Ginny had let slip. She was sure that Ron didn't know she already knew about this...

"...it sort of crushed him," Ron continued, playing with Hermione's fingers again. "So he let the first girl who showed any signs of interest in him snog him and hug him and just... dunno... give him a little bit of revenge."

Hermione wrinkled her nose at the thought of Lavender Brown...

"But it was bloody terrible. He had this knot in his stomach for months. He didn't want to be with _this _girl. None of his feelings had changed. He still fancied his best friend... But he was giving up in a way, convinced that it was too one-sided to ever work, that she saw him as some stupid, irritating-"

"Ron!" Hermione squealed, unable to resist.

"Hey!" Ron said with a smile as he turned to face Hermione again, foreheads almost touching. "You aren't supposed to say anything yet. Gotta let me finish."

Hermione became instantly entranced by his gaze, round blue eyes mere inches away. And she nodded mutely, waiting for him to continue. He lifted his hand from hers to play with her hair again as he picked up his story, eyes still on hers.

"On his birthday, he almost died. And then _she _came to see him. She was there by his bed when he woke up. And he instantly forgot everything that had come between them. See, I didn't tell you this part, but she has this power that no one else has, not even close. When she looks at him... he would do anything she ever asked. And she asked him to forget everything and be friends again. And he didn't need her to say another word. It was done before she finished asking."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears and they silently fell down her cheeks. Ron touched his forehead to hers finally and slid his hand from her hair to her cheek, holding her face and wiping her tears dry with his thumb. His lips parted and she felt his breath on her mouth, warm and shaky. A long moment passed, their eyes locked, and she sensed that he had forgotten he'd even been telling a story. Her stomach flipped over and her skin tingled everywhere. Here she was witnessing exactly what he'd just told her about... the power she hadn't realized she'd had. It was so perfectly obvious.

"Go on," she whispered, and she felt him tremble as her lips very nearly brushed his as she spoke.

He shocked her with a soft kiss, closing his eyes and still holding her face so sweetly with his right hand. When he separated his lips from hers again, he grinned.

"You're distracting me," he whispered huskily as he tore his eyes away from hers to lie fully on his back again, resuming his former stare straight up at the ceiling.

He reached for her hand just as she reached for his, and he chuckled as he squeezed her fingers, closing his eyes as he continued to tell his story, their joined hands resting under the blanket on his stomach now.

"So that summer... there was a wedding... and he danced with her. He actually asked her. Well, in a way he did... maybe it was more of a demand."

Hermione laughed against his shoulder and he grinned, eyes still closed.

"What was he supposed to do? Let his enemy steal his chance again? He'd learned one thing in two years... just one. He had to stop being a bloody coward all the time if he was ever going to have even the vaguest chance of getting what he wanted..."

Ron let out a slow breath, lips upturning, and Hermione was sure he was remembering their dance. She felt a flutter inside her chest as she joined him in his memory.

"And when they danced," Ron continued, "it was like no one else was there... or even alive."

Hermione was sure her smile would never rub off now. She was floating.

"He even held her hand one night while they were falling asleep! He was getting bolder... And then, predictably... he fucked up again."

Hermione's permanent smile faded and at the sound of his swearing, she didn't feel that light, magical flutter. The butterflies in her stomach turned angry and vile, churning painfully as memories rushed forward... nights crying without him, terrified that she'd never see him again.

"He left. He just bloody walked out on his two best friends and left them there alone. His sick, twisted mind convinced him they'd spend the time better now, better for them. They'd be alone, what he could imagine they had wanted from the start. He'd been in the way all along, the reason they weren't already snogging and sleeping in the same bunk every night."

Hermione's stomach twisted into a much tighter, much more painful knot, and she clenched Ron's hand so tight she might have been hurting him, but he didn't pull away or resist. In fact, he opened his eyes now, and she finally saw how much his own memories were affecting him too. His eyes were wet, glistening in the light from the lanterns on the walls of the hotel room.

"The moment he'd Disapparated, he felt so much regret that it almost made him sick... regret for leaving because maybe she really _hadn't_ wanted him to go, regret for leaving them _alone _together where he now couldn't see if his fears were true, and regret for letting those fears rule him to the point of not being able to help them win the war now that he'd simply abandoned all that he'd promised them."

Hermione's tears fell in waves against Ron's shoulder, and he let go of her hand to gather her closer, pulling her halfway on top of him. Her head collided with his neck and she felt more moisture there, realizing immediately that the tears in his eyes from before had fallen too.

"Now all he could hope for," Ron continued, lips against the top of Hermione's head as she snuggled as close as possible, "was that she'd let him return at all. He heard her voice in his pocket, the most beautiful sound he'd heard in so long... and he made it home again."

Hermione considered his choice of the word 'home', using it to very clearly refer to their tent, the last place she'd think of as a legitimate home. She slid her leg more fully over his, needing to be even closer, something she didn't think was physically possible, though her body longed to find a way.

"He had one thing to do before he could face her, though he honestly hadn't even known it was something he needed to conquer. But his best mate knew it somehow or sensed it even if he didn't know why. This locket had been the catalyst for all of these fears becoming too exaggerated to face reasonably. So he had to destroy the locket himself, and his mate made sure he was the one to do it."

They had reached territory that Hermione had not been allowed access to before, and she was holding her breath as she waited for more.

"Do... do you want to know what he heard and saw before he destroyed it?" Ron whispered, releasing his hold on Hermione enough to see her more clearly.

She leaned up above him so she could look into his eyes, nodding her head as she anticipated his next words with anxious excitement.

"This really terrible voice told him... that he was nothing. He should have been different. His mother didn't love him the way she did his siblings. He wasn't supposed to have been born. He should have been skipped so his sister would have been the next child in the family. And... and the girl that he now knew he _loved_... she didn't love him at all. She loved his best friend. In fact, in a lot of ways, she had no use for him at all. She... she might have hated him even. And... and then he saw _them_, his two best friends... _kissing_..."

Hermione couldn't breathe. Tears gushed free, falling onto Ron's bare chest. One of his hands weaved into her hair again, and his other arm remained tightly wrapped around her waist. Little sounds escaped her as she tried to avoid speaking or sobbing too loudly.

"But as soon as it was over," Ron continued, choking up a little as he held the back of Hermione's head gently, "his friend told him it was all wrong. She _didn't_ feel the way he feared she might. He knew it would take some time for him to forget, to really believe..."

Hermione moved tiny millimeters closer to Ron as he went on, cheeks wet.

"Then one night, he thought he really _would _lose her forever. And he paced his room the next day, swearing that he'd do anything to protect her and to _keep _her safe. It wasn't a new promise, but this time, his own feelings didn't seem to matter. He just wanted her to be okay and to be happy... to have everything she ever wanted or needed no matter what it meant for him."

One of Hermione's tears dripped onto Ron's cheek and he flinched at the contact, then smiled sadly, releasing her head to wipe his face roughly, flushed with embarrassment at the sudden acknowledgment of exactly where he was and how far he'd let himself go...

Hermione could sense that the end was near, and she patiently hovered above him, blushing at the contact of her breasts so softly touching his chest, realizing that from his position he could look down and see everything.

"So... a few nights later... she asked him to pretend to love her, and he thought she wouldn't want him to _really _love her. So he said he'd try, and he did... He tried to pretend like he didn't love her, and that he was only giving her the _perception _of what love would be like, coming from someone who didn't know."

Hermione nodded, butterflies fully restored as the corners of his lips actually started to turn up. She was so anxious for him to finish so she could speak.

"When she left for Australia, she took his heart with her, which is why he was so awful to her when she came back. He didn't even _have _a heart anymore."

A funny image of a person with a hollowed out chest crossed Hermione's mind and she managed a sad smile at Ron as he adjusted his body slightly beneath her, hand on her bare shoulder.

"But after a while, after he could see her and hear her again, he thought it seemed like she was giving him little bits of what she'd stolen back to him."

It was a beautiful image, and Hermione smiled as she considered it, her heart melting and breaking, body tingling. She moved her naked thigh over his and felt him tense up before releasing a soft groan. Her stomach warmed several degrees, a hot chill running lower and lower...

"He... he said he didn't care about her anymore," Ron said, breathing through his mouth, so clearly affected by Hermione's position against him now, "but he was a liar all along. And... and when he let her tell him everything, he learned how much they had in common, how her account of their time together was... painfully similar to his, so much that each word she spoke sort of cut through his heart, the one he finally had back when she'd finished her story."

Hermione tried not to move, but her arm had cramped up and she had to slide slightly off of him, though the contact she created was instantly overwhelming. Ron's hand slid down from her shoulder to her back and he sucked in a sharp breath before rushing to finish talking.

"He needed her to say it, what he was terrified to guess in case he had misread... And she did. She... told him she _loved _him, the most brilliant and unreal moment of his life."

Aware now of her control over him, the way he was staring darkly back into her eyes, blinking more often than usual, she moved her hand so slowly across his chest towards his nipple, stopping an inch away.

"He had spent years loving her and now he knew she'd done the same. So..."

A shiver ran through Ron and Hermione delighted in the feeling of it against her own body, all shyness forgotten as her fingers moved closer to their goal...

"So, what do you think? Do you think he _still _loves her?" Ron half whispered, lips parted as he waited for her answer.

"I don't know..." Hermione began, her voice a bit weak from lack of use. "After she told him she loved him, did he go back into her room and make love to her?"

The moment the words had left her, she blushed and Ron grinned brilliantly.

"I think he might have, yeah," Ron said, a slight waver in his voice from suppressed giddiness.

"So maybe..." Hermione could hardly believe what she was about to say, but it was as if she couldn't stop herself, "maybe he'd want to show her again how much he loves her so she'll never forget?"

Ron rolled slowly onto his side, taking Hermione with him. She remained facing him, wrapped in his arms.

"I think that's all he ever wants to do," Ron muttered breathlessly.

They grinned at each other, and a second before Ron's lips met hers, Hermione let out a sob she hadn't realized was coming until it was too late to stop it.

"I'm sorry!" she cried. "I'm sorry for everything!"

His forehead wrinkled up as he squinted against more tears, shaking his head almost imperceptibly against the pillow.

"I'm sorry too," he said, hand lightly caressing her cheek again. "Bloody hell... so sorry."

She sniffed and cried, an inch away from him.

"And that's the last time you should ever say that to me, that you're sorry," Ron finished, eyes boring into hers. "I love you, and I'm pretty sure you love _me _so-"

"_Pretty _sure? !" she squeaked. Ron grinned.

"_So _sure," he said. "Really, really sure, but don't want to jinx it."

Hermione laughed through her tears. His hand moved from her cheek down her arm, fingers brushing her side.

"Enough talking," Hermione breathed, moving her head that last inch towards his, ready to feel his lips against hers.

"Whatever you say," Ron smiled, and he opened his mouth slightly against hers, their lips at a perfect angle, stacked together.

Hermione clutched at his back with both hands, her skin suddenly very warm... alive. She needed him on her, the feeling of his weight pushing her down, covering her... She tried to force him to completely let himself down on top of her as she rolled fully onto her back, still holding him close, chests tightly crushed together. But she sensed his resistance as he kissed his way from her lips to her neck, holding himself up from her a bit, though covering her now...

"Ron..." she breathed as his lips opened against her collarbone.

"Mmm?" His kisses moved an inch lower, but he pushed even further away from her, barely touching.

"Is something wrong?"

He lifted his head, looking shocked.

"Wrong?" he repeated. "No, 'course not. Why?"

"You're not..." she started, before blushing deeply.

"Not what?" Ron asked softly, freezing in place, looking slightly concerned.

"Come here..." she whispered.

Ron grinned, but looked utterly confused. Still holding himself off of Hermione, he leaned down to kiss her lips again...

"Ron..."

He pulled back again just far enough to see her face properly. Her skin was burning and she was sure her face was blotchy and scarlet by now.

"Come _closer_," she tried, mentally begging him to understand. But she didn't even really understand it herself, this strange need to be completely smothered and buried by him...

"Hermione," Ron said slowly, totally baffled, "I'm not sure it's physically possible to get much closer..."

It was his turn to blush and Hermione bit her lip. She knew what he was thinking. And they'd get to that in a second...

"Stop holding yourself up..." Hermione finally clarified. She was too far gone to feel any additional embarrassment at this point...

Ron looked down at his arms for a brief second before gazing back into her eyes again.

"Oh, you want me to..." He smiled. "I'm trying not to completely crush you..."

"You won't..." Hermione whispered.

So he'd been holding back on purpose, trying not to hurt her. She smiled up at him, heart melting as he grinned lopsidedly back at her. He kissed her jaw, her neck, and slowly, softly, she began to feel the pressure of his warm body on top of her own. She tilted her head back further into her pillow and closed her eyes as Ron's lips moved over her skin, his tongue coming into contact with a very sensitive point just at the base of her neck. A wonderfully hot shiver ran from her heart to her limbs... and from her stomach down to her thighs...

Hands on his back again, Hermione pulled gently down. She wanted him to completely let go, and she was waiting for the moment when he finally did...

"Hermione, I'm at least twice your size..." he mumbled against her neck.

"No, you aren't," she sighed back with a smile as his lips continued to gently suck her neck. "And anyway, just trust me. You won't hurt me."

She saw a moment between them when he, lacking true belief for himself, could do nothing but put all his confidence in her. She had seen it before, his blind acceptance of her, faith like nothing she had ever imagined possible. For such a simple thing now, it made her incapable of continued speech just to be reminded...

He crushed her lips and her body as he let go.

She felt herself immediately encased all around by the soft mattress below and on her sides and his warm, firm body above her. She couldn't move, and it was perfect.

"Hermione," he mumbled between kisses, hands in her hair.

She sucked in a sharp breath when their lips parted again, and he pushed up onto his elbows an inch.

"What you wanted?" he muttered as she slipped her legs out from under his, on either side.

"Thank you," she whispered deliriously as his slightly rough cheek rubbed against her smooth neck.

She tilted her head back further, eyes shut tight as she felt him so close now to where she wanted him.

"Ron..." she drew out shakily, desire filled and needy, and he let out a strangled moan as he moved gently into her.

She clutched him as she gasped. He moved so slowly this time, so different from before, and he leaned up, away from her neck, to look into her eyes.

"Okay," he whispered, and she couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement. She nodded anyway, eyes watering from pleasure as he moved agonizingly slowly, stretched over her, muscles contracting and trembling.

She squirmed a bit underneath him as he slid his body against hers, angled perfectly to feel every inch of skin passing over and under...

She _needed _something, though she didn't know what. She couldn't explain it, and she felt shocked by how strong the desire was, though he was making love to her as it mounted.

"Okay?" he said again, and this time it was clearly a question. Her forehead was creased and scrunched up and she watched him study her as he tried to hold back yet again.

She slid a tentative hand between their bodies, down...

He raised himself as much as he could, allowing her better access to... whatever she was about to do.

"Ron?" she questioned as she stopped, her fingers an inch from where their bodies were joined.

"What do you need?" he whispered as he touched her forehead with his own.

But she clutched his thighs with her own and his instinct must have directed his next move... he flipped them so Hermione was on top of him, and she gasped as he moved inside her unavoidably from the jostling of their bodies in the transition.

A spot low on her abdomen began to tingle violently and she fisted his hair with one hand as he reached down to move her other hand out of the way, the hand that had been hovering so close... And, with his palm against the exact spot on her abdomen where something inside her had begun to grow hot and urgent, he pressed his thumb down to touch her most sensitive spot, and she shouted nonsense as he dug his head into the pillow.

Her breasts hovered inches from his chest as she gasped for air.

"Ron, Ron..." she muttered in a throaty voice.

"Uhhh..." he moaned as she moved on top of him. He joined her with every motion, matching and contradicting all at once.

Was it supposed to feel this good? !

She had never imagined it, never dreamed...

"Oh God... Hermione..." he managed to say, strangled and deep as he pulled her head down to his for another kiss.

His thumb moved unintentionally, trapped between them, and as he stretched to fill her completely again, she half screamed into his mouth, unsure if the wet vibrations she felt came from her own throat or his.

And finally, trembling violently, her lips peeled away from his and she fell to the side, still clutching him against her and causing him to groan as he had to roll to stay with her.

On their sides now, facing each other, they panted erratic rhythms, chests together, legs twisted, but still at last.

Suddenly, with no warning, Ron's chest rumbled and he began to laugh, a deep full laugh that had the effect of coating Hermione's sensitive, warm skin in thick goosebumps.

"Bloody... hell..." he choked out through his laughter.

Hermione giggled against him as he locked eyes with her, grinning and still shaking slightly with laughter.

"You are so fucking hot..." he half whispered, blushing even as he said it.

Her smile turned shy as he touched noses with her.

"Sorry," he said, still grinning, "that was probably not the gentlemanly way to say it, but _holy shit_..."

"I love you, Ron..." she whispered as he unstuck parts of their sweaty skin only to restick them at other angles.

"Mmmm... this is _so mad_..." he moaned blissfully as his eyes fluttered shut for a second, breathing deeply. "I love you, too."

"Mad?" she asked, watching him closely as he opened his eyes again.

"In just a few hours, we've gone from screaming at each other to..." he shook his head, motioning with his eyes and a vague, weak hand at their bodies intertwined and naked.

"That's us, isn't it," Hermione sighed as she cuddled up closer to him.

"Blimey," he breathed as her hair bunched against his chest. "You reckon we should go on a proper date or something... you know, soon?"

Hermione laughed as he smiled lopsidedly at her. It was absurd to think that they had gone from finally admitting their feelings to shagging through the night without so much as a real date. But Hermione couldn't have cared less. It was perfect just how it was, though she hadn't ever imagined herself that way before. It was Ron's fault really. He was too... well, too _everything_, honestly.

He made her lose her usual senses... and gain so many others...

"Does your 'proper date' end with this?" Hermione asked, glancing meaningfully down between their bodies.

"Well," Ron began, shifting next to her and causing a ripple of desire to once again build deep inside her, though her shock at knowing how little it took to start it up caused her to crush it down, marveling nonsensically at what he could create without realizing, "we could just... see where things go?" he chuckled. "You know... _take it slow_..."

She burst into giggles and he laughed deeply again.

"Whatever you say," she whispered through her grin as she touched his forehead once again with her own, feeling his heart beat against her chest as he sighed happily.

She placed a gentle hand on his cheek and moved her palm slowly, watching with awe as his eyelids fluttered shut. But, a rumble broke through the soft moment...

"Hungry?" Hermione giggled as Ron opened his eyes and grinned sheepishly.

"Haven't eaten all day..." he shrugged against the pillow.

"I bet we could order some room service..."

Ron raised his eyebrows, gleefully shocked at the prospect.

"What do you want?" she asked him, reveling in the familiarity of his boyish delight.

The possibilities were endless.


	16. As You Now Know

**Chapter 16 – As You Now Know**

_[Companion Track: Passion Pit - Moth's Wings (_http : / / www . youtube . com /watch?v=umoU5PVnfTU_) ] - remove spaces in link_

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Surrounded by plates of half eaten sandwiches, pastries and cakes, Ron fidgeted in only his boxers, legs hanging over the side of the bed. Hermione sat next to him wearing only his shirt and her knickers, though she had put on a robe to answer the door. She'd floo called the front desk and ordered up a massive feast. As if the day couldn't have gotten any better before...

"Mmm," Ron groaned as he popped a final chocolate tart into his mouth. "What a bloody fantastic holiday."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him, but her lips twitched.

Ron glanced at the bedside clock. Half eleven. Still early, really.

"Enjoyed that, did you?" Hermione asked as Ron dropped back fully onto the bed, legs still hanging over the edge, hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Not bad," Ron chuckled, and he felt the mattress jostle as Hermione removed the trays and plates.

It was crazy, honestly. Here he was, half naked in Hermione's hotel room, trays of tarts and pies mostly consumed and happily residing inside his stomach, the taste of chocolate still very prominent on his lips and tongue...

He laughed as Hermione bounced back onto the bed and flattened herself on her stomach next to him, nuzzling against his side. She pushed up and smiled at him, almost drunkenly, and he grinned back, fingers finding their way to the little tendrils of curly hair that had fallen against her cheek haphazardly.

They stared at each other for a drawn out moment, blushing but maintaining eye contact.

"You know," Hermione said softly, "I caught you a few times in the pub."

"Caught me?" Ron asked, dazed by her continued gaze.

"Caught you _looking_... at me," Hermione clarified.

"Oh," Ron said, grinning wider. "Caught you, too."

"Mm, I thought so," Hermione giggled.

Ron let out a contented sigh at the sound.

_Beautiful_.

"Was a bit mental," Ron breathed. "I went because I knew you'd be there. Wondered if you did the same..."

Hermione nodded, her chin bumping against Ron's chest as she did so.

"Were you..." Ron began, taking a breath to prepare his words... "really _jealous_?"

"What..." Hermione started, but she flushed and sighed, catching on. "Yes. I really thought you went home with that... that..."

Ron grinned, delighted, waiting for her to come up with an appropriately nasty word, but she just wrinkled her nose instead and lowered her chin once again to his chest. He noticed a rather frayed hole near the armpit of his shirt, the one that _Hermione _was now wearing... and he pushed his index finger against it and through it to just barely touch her warm skin beneath. She jumped and squirmed on top of him, squealing.

Shocked by her overreaction to his touch, Ron raised his eyebrows. She glared playfully at him, a hint of embarrassment in her pursed lips and darting eyes.

"Ticklish?" Ron concluded, heart pounding for some unexplainable reason.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Hermione muttered, but Ron's grin widened and he squeezed her tighter against his body, prepared to test it again. He dug his fingers under her arm and wiggled them before she could stop him. She screamed, clamped her arm tightly against her body, and tried to squirm out of his embrace, but he was too strong.

However, as tiny as Hermione was, she was managing, with great difficulty, to slink down Ron, her head now level with the bottom of his ribcage. He had to do something about this, to stop her. Laughing deeply, he gathered her with both arms and flipped so he was lying on top of her, the bottom half of his legs still hanging in mid-air, off the side of the bed.

He discovered instantly how much of her abdomen was now exposed after her attempts to shimmy off of him. His shirt was bunched over her breasts, but her stomach was bare and pressed tightly to his, owing to his weight on top of her and a lovely little friend called gravity. He swallowed and tried to remember what he had set out to do...

"Don't you dare!" Hermione shrieked, and it all came back to him.

Grinning wickedly, Ron reached one hand down to Hermione's side and tickled furiously. She squealed and struggled underneath him, wiggling her warm body beneath his in her desperate attempt to break free.

"Stop... stop..." she panted between screams.

Realizing suddenly how this must sound to the neighbors, Ron clamped his other hand over Hermione's mouth, his body weight pressing her down into the mattress even further, no choice in the matter now that both of his hands were otherwise occupied. But then he felt her teeth against his skin, her hot lips so wet against his palm. She bit lightly, but Ron found that his reaction to it was rather unlike what he might have expected... or what he was sure _she _had expected... He groaned unintentionally and felt his body dissolve into something similar to a puddle of mud. The hand that had been tickling her side stopped dead in its tracks and simply remained pressed to her bare, silky skin.

He watched as Hermione's eyes widened curiously... just before she bit him again. Harder.

He swallowed his moan as his heartbeat quickened.

"C-cut it out..." he breathed, though he wanted nothing of the sort. He was supposed to want her to stop, wasn't he? !  
_  
This is mental..._

But Hermione closed her eyes and nibbled his flesh all around the pads beneath the first joints of fingers. His breath hitched in his throat at the feeling of warmth that grew from his hand to his chest and much lower.

Unable to take it any longer, he ripped his hand away from her mouth and replaced it with his lips, kissing her deeply as he pushed himself an inch off of her to allow her to breathe properly again. She continued her biting though, using his lips as her toys this time, nipping gently for a moment, following each series with a deeper bite that caused his muscles to cease up.

He pulled back to look into her eyes, stunned.

"That feels so bloody good..." he mumbled, surprised by his own admission.

Her eyes darkened considerably, and she lifted her head up off the mattress to bite his bottom lip again. Her tongue followed the course of the bite, trailing over him so softly it almost tickled.

"_Fuck_..." he drew out in a whisper as his eyes shut of their own accord, nothing he could do to prevent it, and her lips sealed over his again before he could say another word.

As their lips joined and rejoined, Ron found Hermione's bottom lip sucked between both of his, her teeth nibbling a path across his upper lip, and, feeling a bit daring in the midst of their suddenly renewed passion, he closed his teeth on _her _lip... and bit.

"_Ohhh_..." she groaned into his mouth as her tongue met his.

"See what I mean?" Ron managed to whisper when they separated for a quick breath of air a moment later.

"Please..." she sighed, and his heart collapsed as her legs slid apart, inviting him.

"Any time..." he breathed back as he lifted her left thigh with his right hand, bringing her smooth skin into contact with his hip. He didn't need another moment or another word of invitation.

She sucked in a loud breath as he stretched her legs with his own torso and moved into her with a strange sort of practiced ease. How many times now...?

But all rational thought dissolved within the depths of her.

"Hermione," he choked as he captured her lip again between his teeth.

After a few moments of unrestrained pleasure, Ron remembered something brilliant from the last time. He shifted to form a gap between their bodies in an effort to reach her with his hand, but as he leaned away from her, she arched her back and gasped, dropping one arm from his shoulders, squeezing the blanket beneath them with a tight fist.

His eyes widened a fraction as he watched her eyes roll beneath closed lids.

"You... okay?" he managed to ask, wondering if it would be better if he paused in his actions or continued the way he had been.

"Don't stop," she moaned as she opened her eyes again to meet his, and he nodded, words failing him at both her ability to read his thoughts and the look she now wore so beautifully across her pink face.

But all senses combined like fireworks, leaving him with no hope of surviving. And he was forced to fall slightly against her as he shook sporadically, having lost any remnants of energy, giving them to her... or so he liked to think of it, as she was still clutching the sheet and his back with equal fervor, hand sliding up to the base of his neck to pull his lips against hers again.

"Almost..." she sighed against his mouth as she parted ways with his lips once more. But when she crushed them together again, she bit gently, tongue following her bite. And then, shaking uncontrollably, she melted into the mattress, air evacuating her lungs as she allowed her arms to go limp, useless.

They breathed together, nothing more, as the moment subsided from frenzied passion into glowing contentment.

He looked into her glassy eyes, hair strewn about her head, all around her, frizzy and messy and splayed out in a way that seemed to mirror her emotional state at the moment. The cuteness of her flushed cheeks and puffy lips overwhelmed him for a moment. She looked so vulnerable, and happily so. He could do what he wanted, _whatever _he wanted, and she would simply lie there and accept her fate... _enjoy _it, even.

_He _did this. _He _made her feel this way. Him!

A shock coursed through him like a miniature tidal wave, shifting the contents of his stomach in a way that made him wonder how he'd managed to choke any food down in this state to begin with. He had never felt nerves like this, and he'd been in this hotel room with Hermione - _naked _with Hermione! - for hours now! Surely he would have gotten more comfortable. But as he continued to stare down at her, one hand now roaming through her wayward hair, watching as she breathed so raggedly through her mouth, eyes locked together, he realized...

This was what it felt like to have everything he'd ever wanted. And so much more. This was what it felt like to be content. Happy. Perfect.

"I think..." he began, voice already wavering from the intensity of his unplanned words, "that... I-I've always loved you. I just didn't know what it really was until... until now."

"Now?" Hermione breathed out, more of a sigh than a spoken word. But there was something timid in the way she searched him, waiting for him to explain more.

"I knew I was _in_ love with you... years ago, maybe," Ron continued, knowing that he would be lucky if she truly understood a word that he was trying to express...

Words. What good were they to describe something this vast and incomprehensible? But he had to try. "

"But... I _loved _you my whole life. I just didn't know it yet... not until I let you in."

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, lips turning up into a smile as she chuckled lightly, chest moving against his.

"Ron, what on _earth_..." Her logical side had surfaced and he was so happy to see it, drawing him back to the reality of her presence beneath him. He grinned.

"It's just... I only felt like a real person, really alive... just now... when you looked at me... like... like _that_," he concluded as Hermione's beautiful eyes joined his again in that perfect gaze that he simultaneously wanted to never break from and felt like he could be consumed and desperately overcome by if he didn't look away soon.

Tears trickled from the corners of Hermione's eyes, a reaction he had not expected, and he felt a pang near his heart as he tried to play back his own words and figure out where he had gone wrong. Had he said too much? He _was _being rather intense, he reasoned. He grimaced slightly, but Hermione smiled broadly at him as her eyes continued to water.

"And you say _I'm_ mental," she said.

Blushing slightly, Ron rolled off of Hermione, pulling her onto her side to face him, relieving his arms of having to hold up his trembling body above her.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled as he brushed tears from her cheeks with his knuckles. "I'm just so... so happy. Right now."

She pushed her head forehead and touched her nose to his.

"Me too," she breathed against his lips. They grinned together, eyelids heavy suddenly, having exerted all of their available energy... rowing, snogging, making love...

"We're all, uh," Ron began, fidgeting again as his legs still remained partially dangling off the edge of the bed, "crooked."

Hermione sat up and tugged his hand, leading him to the head of the bed where they slid under the covers sleepily and moved against each other simultaneously, foreheads touching, legs wound into a tight and comforting knot beneath the sheets. But just as Ron was reaching across her to pull her a few inches closer, she shivered... and immediately reached down to remove Ron's shirt, tossing it behind her haphazardly and barring her chest to him again. She crushed their torsos together and Ron raised an eyebrow at her as his right arm locked over her, tight against her bare back, skin tingling with pleasure.

"I was a bit cold," Hermione said with a shuffle against Ron, wiggling to get comfortable. Ron slid one arm under the pillow they shared and she touched her forehead to his again lightly.

"So you took off my shirt?" Ron asked, grinning questioningly, eyebrow still raised.

"Body heat," she sighed, blinking slowly as she locked her own arm around Ron's middle, palm against his back for a moment before falling limp across him.

Ron blinked at her, and even though, at their proximity, she could not possibly make out his features and expression with much certainty, she chuckled, chest moving against his again. God, he loved that feeling...

"Best way to regenerate body heat is to get naked with someone else and get close like this..." She moved her body in a terribly arosing away against his, though he doubted that she knew, or had intended at that particular moment, to awaken his lust...

"Ah," was all he managed to choke out.

She yawned daintily, and he delighted in the feeling of every movement of her, so heightened by their closeness.

"Tell me one thing," she said softly, closing her eyes. He closed his own as well. They were too close like this to see each other properly.

"Mmm..." Ron said by way of a reply.

"When I left for Australia," she said, and he sensed her nervousness to continue, "why didn't you try to follow me?"

"I did," Ron said simply, mouth dry all of a sudden.

"_After _that. I mean... after I had _really _left..."

"Because... I thought you needed time alone to think. And you asked me not to go. It was the hardest thing, not to follow you..."

Hermione opened her eyes now and leaned back from Ron, enough to see his face properly as he blinked her back into view as well.

"When I left you, it... was like I'd died and I..."

Ron's hand found its way to her cheek as he watched her.

"When you told me, a moment ago, that you... that you only just now knew what it was like, to be alive... Ron, I knew exactly what you meant because... I feel the same. I'm just... not sure if..." She couldn't continue and Ron stroked her cheek once with his thumb.

A light fear threatened to creep up on him at her words. What wasn't she sure of? But then his heart broke at the way she looked back at him, eyes round and uncertain. And he couldn't ask her to finish that sentence. Not yet. If she was afraid, well, he'd have to show her she had no reason to be.

"Whatever it is," he whispered, "whatever you feel, it's okay. I... I'll be here, whatever you want."

A sob escaped her as she kissed him. He focused on her lips, the feeling of being wrapped up in her both physically and emotionally as her legs shifted against his under the sheet.

"I love you," she said as she pulled away again.

"And that's all I'll ever need," Ron breathed. "I love you too."

She closed her eyes first, but he soon followed. She shifted, and he pulled her harder against him, on top of him as he rolled onto his back.

He only realized he'd fallen asleep when he woke some time later to Hermione padding across the carpet from the loo to the bed, her hair in a giant frizz, piled high around her face. She slid into the bed on Ron's right this time, back towards him. But she nuzzled back up against him, and he had to remind himself that it was late and she was tired, because it would have taken nothing more than a whisper or a nod for his desire to consume him completely, unrelenting until he was able to feel her again the way he had earlier that night, a sensation somehow old and new...

He closed his eyes and breathed her skin, the soft smell of her as she let out a deep breath, taking his hand in her own as he hugged her back to his chest.

She mumbled something that he couldn't make out, but before he could question it or ask her to repeat it, he was dreaming.


	17. Everything Starts Now

**Chapter 17 - Everything Starts Now**

_[Companion Track: The Hood Internet vs. Metric - Blindness (_http : / / listen . grooveshark . com /#/search/song?q=metric%20blindness%20hood%20internet)_ - remove spaces in link]_

* * *

_"Hush, Harry!"_

_"Maybe we shouldn't-"_

_"It's bad enough we fell asleep in your room! Ron will kill us both for leaving him out to fend-"_

_"...What?"_

Ron's eyes cracked open as someone gasped, somewhere near the foot of the strange bed he was sleeping in... and what was this weight against his chest, in his arms? And was it just him, or was there a significant draft against his left arm which was around...

His eyes widened as comprehension dawned, and he caught a flash of Ginny, mouth hanging open, just around the corner from the little hall that led from the hotel room door into the room itself. And, before Ron could speak or move, Harry's face came into view, paling immediately. His hand flew up over his eyes as he lunged back out of view of Ron and...

Hermione.

A hand clasped a shocked Ginny's arm and she clamped her eyes shut as she succumbed to the force of Harry, tugging her back out of the room with enthusiasm.

Ron struggled with the tangled sheets and blankets around them until he had covered Hermione and himself completely, even their heads concealed beneath the nearly opaque quilt in his haste, though it was irrational now... now that Harry and Ginny had seen them and were no longer even within view of...

There was a furious shuffle in the little hall, and Ron heard the hotel room door bang open and shut again in quick succession as his heart pounded wildly, realizing, as he regained full consciousness, how exposed Hermione had been. Sure, _he'd_ been mostly covered... by _her_ and a conveniently placed blanket. But he was sure, positive in fact, that Ginny and Harry had just seen Hermione's bare chest. Her back was still against his chest, and she'd been facing them...

His stomach twisted into a tight knot.

Hermione stirred against him, moving so gently as she came out of sleep, blinking softly as she took in their position together under the blanket.

"Ron?" she croaked out sleepily.

His knotted stomach twisted again, but in a different direction this time. It was incredible how _incredible _she sounded, how she could be so... incredible and not even realize it.

Ron cursed himself for his lack of vocabulary, but it had very definitely been shocked out of him by the awkward combination of being caught naked in bed with Hermione by his sister and best friend and the soft, hypnotic noises Hermione was now making as she turned over and snuggled into Ron, burying her face in his chest.

"Why are we all the way under here?" she mumbled against him with the hint of a giggle.

And then it hit Ron. He had to go after Ginny and Harry and explain. What must they think right now of him? They'd both been rather angry with him, though Ginny had given him a bit of a break after he'd confessed his love for Hermione to her in the middle of the night...

So, without bothering to answer Hermione's question, Ron ripped the blanket off their heads and slid out of bed, pulling on his boxers in one fluid motion as he stood, blushing as he felt her eyes on him. He searched for his shirt, wildly moving clothes around on the floor.

"Ron, what's-"

"Sorry, I'll explain in a second," he said as he abandoned the idea of a shirt altogether for the sake of time. He bolted for the door...

"Ron?" he heard Hermione question again as he entered the hallway, but he didn't turn back to respond.

He nearly sprinted down the hall, turning right to cut through the side hall, and right again when he reached the main hall to his and Harry's room. As he came around the last corner, two startled, wide-eyed faces turned to watch him approach.

"Ron..." Harry said, a mixture of embarrassment and shock in his eyes.

Realizing with sudden intensity how exposed he was, how he had probably made matters _worse _rather than better, Ron scratched the back of his head, ruffling his already rumpled hair.

"Uh..." he began. Well, he'd have to say something now that he was here... "It's not what you think."

He winced. Of course _it_ was _exactly _what Harry and Ginny thought, and he knew that.

Ginny raised her eyebrows and Ron sighed.

"Okay, it's... well, it probably _is_ what you think. But listen-!"

"Tell me you at least told her first," Ginny interrupted, a tiny smirk threatening to break through the awkwardness.

"Told her..." Ron began, derailed from his previous defense by his puzzlement at Ginny's words... until it sunk in. Ginny was asking if he'd been a total git and slept with Hermione without confessing his love for her... "Well, _obviously _I didn't just... I didn't... I mean of course I told her!" Ron shouted, his face absolutely burning.

"Maybe we should um, go inside?" Harry suggested, glancing down from Ron's face to his bare chest, to his boxer clad bottom half, to his bare feet.

"Okay," Ron breathed, somehow blushing even harder as Harry turned to unlock the hotel room door that they had been standing so awkwardly in front of.

Ron followed Harry and Ginny inside, feeling like a complete prat walking half naked into his own room, forced to explain how he'd gone, several weeks ago, from calmly informing Hermione, in front of dozens of witnesses, that he would never be able to be her friend again, to sleeping with her...

The door clicked shut behind Ron, and Ginny and Harry turned to face him again. Harry and Ron avoided each other's eyes fiercely, and Ginny broke through with a chuckle.

"Honestly, you two," she said, rolling her eyes. "Harry, it's not like we caught them actually _doing _anyth-"

"Shut up!" Harry and Ron shouted at the same time, Harry shaking his head as if to rid himself of the mental image.

"Look, I only chased you down because I wanted to... to..." Ron tried to say, cursing himself at his inability to just say what he needed to say and get the hell out. "We... me and Hermione... we made up, last night, and-"

"Oh, you did?" Ginny asked with mock surprise.

"Ginny, if you don't shut up for five seconds so I can finish this, I'll hex you so mum won't even recognize you!" Ron threatened, arms shaking slightly.

He wanted to simply disappear, to vanish into the wallpaper or the carpet beneath his feet. He wasn't sure he had ever been this embarrassed. And honestly, he felt even more embarrassed for Hermione, for what she didn't know... and what he'd have to tell her when he returned to her room...

Ginny clamped her lips shut purposefully and pressed them together, raising her eyebrows as she waited for Ron to continue.

"Thank you," he said through clenched teeth. "What I'm trying to say is... I... I love her. And I told her so. And then we... well... she loves me too and we talked about it and we're... we're fine now."

Harry nodded once, studying Ron, still obviously uncomfortable with the circumstances of Ron's presence in the room.

"I just didn't want you two to think that... that... it was just a whim or... maybe we were drunk or... or something..." Ron finished lamely. "You don't seem to trust me with my business, so I thought, since you've already found out everything else, I might as well give you the full picture... wouldn't want you to spend the next few months thinking I'm the prat you've thought I was since Hermione came home."

"Ron, we didn't really think..." Harry began, swallowing as he trailed off, unable to complete his sentence.

"It's okay," Ron shrugged. "I get it. It's better for you to think that of me anyway than to betray Hermione's trust and... and tell you what happened."

Harry opened his mouth as if ready to challenge Ron again, ready to ask a very familiar question, one Ron would never answer. But Ron shook his head and spoke again before Harry had the chance.

"The point is... well, you get the point. This isn't just a one time thing, ya know?" But Ron realized how that had sounded and blushed even deeper, down to his toes. "You _know _what I meant..." He half-sighed at the strained look on Ginny's face as she tried desperately to keep her lips sealed.

"Ron," Harry began, causing Ron to flinch slightly as he had been so focused on glaring at Ginny. Harry took a few steps in Ron's direction, looked up into his face. "I'm really glad you worked it out."

Ron nodded, his throat suddenly dry and stomach churning again as he looked into Harry's sincere face.

"You were always meant for each other," Harry finished, and then he looked away and cleared his throat, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, uh, we have to check out of here in a few minutes. Better go... um..." -Harry gestured at Ron's scantily clad body- "get dressed." And as Harry turned away from Ron again, Ron caught sight of a grin just starting to form on Harry's face. Harry began to move about the room, collecting his things.

"Hang on," Ron said, feeling lightheaded for some reason. "I might have to Obliviate you..."

"What?" Ginny asked incredulously, eyes wide, lips still white from where she'd been forcefully holding them together to avoid saying anything until now.

"Hermione'll be _really _upset... when she finds out what you... what you saw..." Ron managed to choke out, sure that he had no more heat left to emit at this point...

"Maybe it's better not to tell her?" Harry suggested, grimacing as he looked apologetically back at Ron from where he was now standing at the foot of the bed, gathering his clothes into his rucksack.

"Nah, I can't not tell her," Ron admitted. "Drives me mental to keep things from her. Even if I didn't tell her today, I'd eventually crack and she'd have kittens..."

"Well, we didn't really see... _that _much..." Harry muttered vaguely, but Ginny looked at Harry pointedly and he just shrugged, unable to meet Ron's eyes.

"Nice try," Ron mumbled, shifting his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably.

"You can't Obliviate us, Ron," Ginny said with a huff. "That's absurd."

"Bloody hell..."

"Look, I've already forgotten it," Harry tried, "so no harm done."

"Swear you'll be able to act like it never happened around her, and that you're... ya know... blurring out what you saw?" Ron asked, hoping Harry and Ginny would both give him a convincing 'yes' so he could finally make his exit.

"Yes," Harry said, nodding and looking straight at Ron.

_Nice, Harry._

"Yes," Ginny said, wrinkling up her nose. "And I don't have a strong desire to remember what's happening right _now _either, my brother standing almost naked a few feet away from me, talking about shagging one of my best girl friends..."

"Ginny! Why the hell do you always have to ruin everything?" Ron bellowed. "You couldn't have stopped at 'yes'?"

She looked up at him for a long moment, his body flushed with embarrassment and anger now as he waited for another smart retort from her...

"Okay, Ron, for Hermione's sake..." she said with a small smile. "Yes, I've forgotten everything I saw and I'll never think about it ever again. Happy?"

Ron was wary of accepting Ginny's rather sincere words, assuming she had another trick up her sleeve, but finally, he had to admit that she must be finished. Too much time had passed, and Harry had returned to cleaning up the room.

"Okay. Okay, thank you," he said quickly, backing away from them now, towards the door. He turned at the last moment and yanked open the door, sticking his head out to check for other guests in the hallway, but finding none, he darted into the hall, around two corners, and back to Hermione's room.

He had a sinking feeling of apprehension as he reached for the door knob, sure that the door had locked behind him when he'd left earlier. But, fortunately, the door had somehow remained very slightly ajar, just enough to prevent the lock from engaging. Letting out a short breath of relief, Ron entered the room and leaned against the back of the door, closing it completely behind him.

"Ron?" Hermione called out from the room ahead, unable to see him where he was still standing with his back against the door. He swallowed, not quite ready to face telling her what had happened, but knowing he had to get it over with...

"Yeah," he replied as he walked into the room completely, letting the tips of his fingers trail along the blankets on the bed as he slowly approached the the top where Hermione sat against the headboard, sheet clutched to her chest.

"What's going on?" she asked, a hint of fear in the way her forehead creased.

"Nothing to worry about," he began as he tentatively moved closer, closer... until he was standing directly over her. "Nothing really..."

Hermione's expression shifted from concerned to slightly annoyed, and Ron let out a quick breath, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring a hole through the edge of the blanket, picking at a fray with thumb and forefinger.

"Please, Ron, tell me what's going on," Hermione demanded, staring intently at him. He finally looked up... and felt his heart skip at her bare shoulders, tousled hair, flushed cheeks...

"Harry and Ginny walked in on us," he blurted.

Damn it, she could get him to say anything by just looking into his eyes like that...

She gasped and clutched the sheet even tighter to her chest.

"W-walked in on us? !" she whispered, terrified.

"Yeah," Ron said sadly. "Sorry, I should have thought of that possibility earlier and left before morning..."

But Hermione simply stared silently back into Ron's eyes, mortified.

"I honestly forgot they were even here," Ron admitted. "I know that's insane, but... I dunno. I got... distracted..."

"Oh God..." Hermione moaned as she tucked her knees up to her chest to hold the sheet in place, covering her face with both hands.

"It's not so bad," Ron continued quickly. He had to convince her so she wouldn't hate him for not having the foresight to prevent this. After they'd come this far, he wasn't going back. Never. "I'm really sorry. The reason I ran out of here was to catch up to them so I could explain."

Hermione lowered her hands enough to look at Ron again and speak through her fingers.

"What did they see, exactly?" she asked tentatively, as if terrified of the answer she couldn't help but demand.

"I think, uh," Ron began, rubbing his neck again in his usual way, what he knew he always did when he was too nervous to speak fluidly, "they might have seen... your... chest... just a little."

Hermione let out a heavy cry as she covered her face completely again with her hands, pulling her knees even tighter against her torso.

"But listen, I told them... I told them I love you-"

Hermione's body visibly tensed at his words and he wasn't sure if it was a good sign or a very bad one...

"And... and that _you_, for some mental reason, love me as well... so... so we aren't just... you know... um..."

Ron sensed that he wasn't saying the right things, and he sighed heavily as he scooted closer to Hermione, against his better judgment. He'd been doing that a lot lately, going against his 'better judgment'...

"They've sworn they've forgotten everything, and if Ginny decides to be a brat about it at _all_ - _ever_ - then she knows I have no problem erasing her memory for you."

Hermione lowered her hands again and found Ron's eyes with her own. Something in her expression made his heart beat faster.

"You told her that?" she asked, awestruck.

"Yeah... yeah, I may have," Ron said with a slight shrug.

"Ron..."

Her eyes softened, reading his soul as he slowly allowed one wayward hand to crawl up her shin towards her knee.

"You'd really do that... for me?"

"Of course," Ron said immediately, shocked she'd even have to question it. "That's so hard to believe?"

Hermione let out a strangled sigh and leaned away from the headboard in a flash, tucking her head against Ron's neck, ear resting on his shoulder as she rubbed her nose against him. Shocked at her sudden movement, Ron remained frozen in place for a second longer than was natural... before his arms remembered how to work and moved around her, holding her against him as she brought her hand up to the other side of his neck, legs extended along the mattress to Ron's left, sheet held in place over her chest merely by the pressure of her chest to his.

"My hero..." she whispered through a grin as her fingers blazed a trail of goosebumps along the sensitive flesh behind Ron's right ear.

He grinned too and dropped his mouth and nose into the messy hair on top of her head, breathing in as he squeezed her tighter against him.

A distant knock woke them from their haze, and Hermione pulled back from him slightly.

"It can't be eleven already..." she said, furrowing her eyebrows.

"I guess it is," Ron said sadly. "Harry said it was nearly time to check out."

Hermione's expression changed from one of confusion to one of dread as she threw herself flat onto her back, head on the pillow, sheet held to her chest by one limp hand.

"Feels like we just got here," she complained as Ron watched from his position still seated on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah..." he agreed, chest constricting at the creeping irrational thought that Italy held some secret charm that had brought them together, a charm that would break upon leaving the hotel behind them.

"I don't want to go home..." Hermione breathed suddenly, eyes glazed with tears.

This was his moment. It was terribly impulsive and totally unpredictable... but here they were, the morning after having done something terribly impulsive and totally unpredictable. He had nothing to lose.

"Then don't," he said.

He gave her a half-smile, imagining the possibilities... and hoping more than he had hoped for anything in his life that she'd not turn him down now...

"I have to... I've got work tomorrow," she said sadly, and he could tell that she really meant it, that she really was sorry she couldn't stay here with him.

But then it occurred to him, what he'd really meant when he'd told her not to go home. He didn't want her to leave his side for a second... and she'd virtually admitted she wanted the same thing he did.

Confidence, perhaps, dominated his next move... but it might not have been that exactly. He was still learning how to say the right things... aware in some small way, in the back of his mind, that the _right _thing and the _natural _thing for him to say were somehow far more alike than he had ever dared to hope. Too much thought, too much heart... they were one in the same, but somehow, she wanted what was in his heart, and he no longer had to shade it with gray to show it to her.

"Yeah, sure," he began, smiling, "we'll go back to _London_. But... you don't have to go _home_."

"Where else would I go?" she asked, breathless, tentative. And he sensed that she knew the answer to her own question.

"Guess," he said bravely, eyes locked with hers.

For a long moment, they did nothing but breathe, chests rising and falling as it all sunk in. Ron felt an eternity stretch between them in that short moment... and then, to his horror, the knock they'd heard faintly earlier sounded out again, much more pronounced this time. The maid was at the door, ready to clean the room...

"Hermione," Ron pleaded, needing her answer, whatever answer she had for him, before it was too late.

"Okay," she said, so softly he almost missed it.

"Okay?" he asked, his eyes widening as he waited for her second confirmation, the one he had to have in order to believe.

"Okay," she laughed.

He grinned a face-splitting grin and laughed joyfully, interrupted yet again by the maid knocking and calling out to them.

"Alright!" Ron shouted, turning his face towards the door. "One second!"

He stood from the bed, gathered his clothes in a rush, and began to dress, nearly falling over in his haste. Hermione giggled as she slipped out of the bed, sheet coming with her as she moved about the room, collecting her own clothes, throwing things at random into her bag.

"Hey, lovebirds!" came Ginny's voice, laced with a snicker, from outside the door now as well. "Put some clothes on so I can come in and pack my things!"

"I'll kill her," Ron muttered as he slipped his feet into his shoes. "Hermione, just say the word and I'll Obliviate her."

Hermione giggled again as she swept up the loose ends of her sheet and tossed a heap of clothes through the bathroom door, onto the floor.

"I'll just be a second," she said with a grin in Ron's direction, eyes sparkling. "You'd better go pack... and let Ginny in before she can think of another clever thing to say."

Ron grinned and nodded at Hermione as he stood tall, backing away from her, towards the door. Finally, he managed to disconnect his eyes from Hermione's and open the door. He heard the bathroom door click shut behind him just as Ginny smirked up at him, standing right next to the slightly embarrassed looking hotel maid.

"Sorry, you'll have to forgive my sister," Ron said to the woman. "She doesn't know the meaning of the word 'inappropriate.'"

But Ginny just winked at Ron and stalked past him into the room.

"Give us two minutes," she said over her shoulder in the general direction of the maid.

And as Ron walked away from Hermione's room, towards his own, all anger or frustration with Ginny dissolved into nothing. His grin replaced itself with renewed permanence.

Hermione was coming home. With him.

Everything had changed. In one night, his whole life had been steered onto a new track... onto the _right _track, the one he'd somehow gotten derailed from somewhere along the way.

One night.

Yes, as he'd discovered so long ago now it seemed, one night really could change...

_Everything_.


	18. And Now, It's Real

**Chapter 18 - And Now, It's Real**

_[Companion Track: frYars - Our Father (_http : / / www . youtube . com/watch?v=nVv23ppphfA)_ - remove spaces in link]_

_

* * *

_

She stood with her back to the bathroom door, clutching the sheet in rumpled bunches around her body, eyes shut blissfully. Everything smelled like him. _She _smelled like him. She could still taste him, still feel his hands on her. She was still warm because he'd warmed her.

On her next exhale, she squeaked with delight, reminding herself of the silly girls at school she used to roll her eyes at. But as she opened her eyes again, she wasn't ashamed of this fact at all.

She grinned broadly at her own disheveled reflection. And, hearing Ginny shuffling around on the other side of the door, she was reminded of what came next, of going _home_.

Where was home now, again?

_Guess_...

She squeaked again and covered her mouth as she bounced, dropping her sheet to the tile and skipping to the shower...

_

* * *

_

She spotted him from across the lobby, water still dripping off his fringe from his shower. He tilted his head down, tilted his eyes up, and grinned at her as he shoved his hands into his pockets, rolled his shoulder to adjust his bag strap, and shuffled shyly closer, closer... until the four of them stood in a circle - Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione.

Hermione bit her lip as she grinned back up at Ron... who was now avoiding her eyes altogether, rubbing an invisible smudge on the lobby floor with the toe of his trainer.

"Ready?" Harry asked, looking between them all.

"Not really," Ginny sighed dramatically. "Ten Galleons it's raining back home." She grumbled as Harry took her hand.

And Hermione waited, watching as Ron licked his lips. But with one last nervous tremble, he stretched out his own hand towards her, lifting an eyebrow and one corner of his mouth as he looked at her again.

She shivered as she took his hand, warmth enveloping her from his touch as he closed his larger hand around hers.

"Home," Ginny said as Ron looked into Hermione's eyes. And the word sounded much too perfect as the hotel lobby swirled away, bodies sucked into the vacuum of Apparation.

_

* * *

_

He'd taken them to the front door for some reason, instead of simplifying their journey by Apparating directly into his flat. Hermione adjusted her bag as she waited for Ron to dig his key out of his pocket and unlock the door, the process taking longer than it should have. The familiar signs of his nervousness stuck out, red patches across the back of his pale neck, peeking out from under his shaggy hair.

But finally, he swung the door open and stepped inside.

Thunder cracked as Hermione followed him in, and she shivered, rubbing her arms as he closed the door behind them, shutting them inside the cold living room, dark and deserted and a bit too quiet.

"Ginny was right," Ron said hoarsely, glancing towards the far window. Rain smacked the glass furiously, and the dark sky loomed, alight with lightning for a moment as they both stood watching.

He cleared his throat.

"Maybe I'll make some tea," and he dropped his bag where he stood, glanced quickly at Hermione, and disappeared into the kitchen. From her position, frozen just inside the front door, she could see him through the open kitchen door, moving around, scratching the back of his neck as he set the kettle on the stove top.

There was something exciting buried beneath the discomfort of their shyness now. It was strange, to suddenly be so cautious and nervous around someone she'd just... well, spent the night with.

No, someone she'd spent a very large portion of her _life _with.

Lost in thought, she hardly noticed time had passed, and when Ron returned to the living room with two mismatched cups of steaming tea, she was startled enough to jump.

"You alright?" Ron asked, stopping in his tracks and watching her curiously.

"Fine," she said, smiling briefly. But the need to keep talking through the awkwardness bubbled up to the surface, and she said the first thing that came to mind as Ron moved to the sofa... "Where should I put my things?"

He set the cups on the coffee table, straightened up, and licked his lips. Avoiding her eyes again, he toed off his trainers as a distraction.

"Uh, wherever you want, really," he said as he sat down.

So he was leaving it up to her. That's not at all what she'd wanted. She'd asked because she didn't want to have to answer the question herself. And now what was she supposed to do?

Leaving the question unanswered for now, she dropped her bag to the floor next to Ron's and made her way to join him on the couch.

As she sat down, inches away from him, he jumped up, and for a horrifying moment, she imagined that he'd been repelled by her, like opposing magnets. But then he spoke as he crossed towards the fireplace.

"Should make a fire."

"Oh," Hermione said, sounding much too relieved. And she blushed as he knelt and straightened the coals and wood inside the fireplace before aiming his wand at it and lighting it suddenly.

And with another loud burst of thunder, the room was suddenly glowing with warmth, softly comforting and crackling with life as Ron resumed his position on the sofa. Only closer. At _least _a few inches closer. If he _breathed _too deeply he'd probably be touching her...

Hermione smiled, reached for her cup of tea, and relaxed back into the cushions.

"Mm, much nicer," she said as she took a long sip of the tea, allowing the steam to travel up her nostrils and down the back of her throat as she breathed in. "Thank you, Ron," she added, tipping her cup in his direction.

He shook his head slightly, smiling, eyes glowing in the firelight.

They drank in silence, and it slowly became a bearable silence, through all the tension and absurd uncertainty of everything, so much so fast.

Finally, Ron replaced his cup on the coffee table and cleared his throat. Hermione held her breath, waiting for him to speak, but he just scratched the back of his neck, licking his lips again, mesmerizing her.

"So..." Hermione trailed off, having no idea what word should follow.

"So," Ron echoed.

"I uh," she began, suddenly landing on something to say but not really wanting to say it... though she needed to get it out, maybe to clear the air for good. "Last time I was here... I was sort of a mess, wasn't I. Just... I'm sorry. Again."

Ron's lips curved up, slowly arching into a wide grin as his cheeks glowed from the fire and his flush. He shook his head.

"I was so nervous when the confusion wore off," he admitted through his amused grin.

"Nervous?" Hermione asked, furrowing her eyebrows as she set her own now-empty cup on the coffee table next to Ron's, turning her body in slightly to face him fully. He rested his elbow on the couch back and pressed his cheek against his palm.

"Yeah, really nervous," he confirmed.

"But why?"

"Well," he licked his lips yet again and Hermione's stomach jumped as thunder cracked outside once more, "I loved you and I wasn't supposed to and I'd told you I didn't want to see you but, blimey, of course I _did_, so I had no bloody clue how I was supposed to act."

Hermione blinked at him.

"That's ridiculous," she laughed.

"Oh?" Ron arched an eyebrow. "As if you haven't done just as many ridiculous things. We overthink everything." He shrugged. "That's what got us into this mess in the first place, yeah? And now we think it's sorted but we're sitting here all twitchy anyway."

"Thanks," Hermione laughed again, shaking her head in disbelief at his frankness. But he'd fixed it, hadn't he? All he had to do was say it. And now she felt her whole body relax, as if everything made sense again.

He smiled at her, and held her gaze for a moment. She felt her blood run faster, her vital organs turn to heaps of mush, and her brain stall somewhere between sentences. She could do nothing but let his heat pull her closer, and she leaned into him. He dropped his arm flat across the back of the sofa, using the other to wrap around her as she rested her head on his chest.

"I'm sorry I left," she sniffed.

"Which time?" he joked, and she stiffened. "Shit, that was stupid."

She closed her eyes, not that she could see his face anyway from her awkward position against him. He shifted against the couch arm and gathered her closer to him. But she had to pull back finally, body skewed into an uncomfortable position... and a stitch lodged distinctly in her chest now from his reminder of the magnitude of what she'd really done.

"I meant the night I stayed here," she said through her now-tight jaw. "I should have-"

"Stop saying the word 'should'," Ron interrupted. "Just do what you want. Now. Or whenever you want it. And forget it."

"That's what you really want?" she asked, eyes burning.

"Yeah," he nodded. "We went over this."

And as she studied him, she saw just how sincere he was. No signs of hurt or discomfort remained in his glowing eyes, his relaxed features... he'd forgiven her. But he was much too easy. She wasn't the same, never had been. It was so much harder to come to terms with a mistake, especially when she was the one who had made it. She wasn't supposed to make mistakes. In fact, everything she did seemed to contradict the idea of mistakes. She ordered her life so she never took a wrong turn or a false step.

Never... except for when it suddenly mattered the most.

How long before she could forgive herself?

"Come here," Ron said softly, and he jostled against the couch arm again, lifting his legs to stretch along the length of the couch, dropping them onto Hermione's lap in the process.

She sniffed with the hint of a chuckle and extricated herself to crawl towards him as he separated his legs, inviting her. His long arm stretched far down the back of the couch, just to the right of her cheek as she repositioned herself between his legs, back towards him. She felt oddly nervous again, encased in his scent, so close.

But then he dropped his arm to her waist, tucking her tight against him. And as she melted, allowing both of his arms to close around her and his head to drop on top of hers, they seemed to fit perfectly.

He breathed deeply, and she felt his chest push against her back heavily.

There was this need, rising to the surface, like she had to fill a void, words to break through stiff tension as the storm outside intensified. But she sensed him about to speak for her, chest constricting in that instant before the words made their escape...

"We don't have to talk," he said quietly. "You don't have to say anything, if you don't want to."

She let her head drop fully against his chest now, her eyes drifting shut. How was it possible that he was... perfect? Oh, she'd guessed. She'd known, in a way. But now she was here and _he _was here and he'd _asked _her to be here and all he wanted was her...

"Are you happy?" he asked.

No words could describe her happiness, and to simply answer 'yes' seemed a poor response. So she twisted in his arms and he lifted his head to allow her to face him, noses almost touching.

She tilted her head, parted her lips, and watched as his eyes slipped shut, before her lips had even touched his, blissful anticipation of the feeling that was coming...

She kissed him for as long as she could, back twisted awkwardly to face him, before she had no choice but to flip, drawing him down further onto his back as she hovered over him. And at last, through a warm haze, tingling tongues where they'd mingled between a newly created space, she pulled away, smiling and watching... waiting for him to open his eyes and look back up at her.

His pale eyelashes fluttered, and then he was staring into her soul.

"Happy?" she whispered. He lifted a trembling hand to the back of her head, let his fingers flow through her hair, and brought her forehead gently back to his.

"Never better," he sighed, and he kissed her again.

* * *

_**A/N:** Whew! So sorry for the delay. I'm back into the swing of this story now. Been having weeks and weeks of trouble uploading anything to this site, and now I finally found a workaround in the forums for how to upload a new chapter to an existing story, so that's good at least. If you are having the same trouble, check my profile for steps on how to fix it, thanks to some geniuses over on the forums :)_


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